第8章 戴维·赫伯特·劳伦斯(2)

“Was I out of my mind？”she asked，while her eyes were fixed on him all the

time.

“Maybe，for the moment，”he replied.He felt quiet，because his strength had come back.The strange fretful strain had left him.

“Am I out of my mind now？”she asked.

“Are you？”he reflected a moment.“No，”he answered truthfully，“I don't see that you are.”He turned his face aside.He was afraid now，because he felt dazed，and felt dimly that her power was stronger that his，in this issue.And she continued to look at him fixedly all the time.“Can you tell me where I shall find some dry things to put on？”he asked.

“Did you dive into the pond for me？”she asked.

“No，”he answered.“I walked in.But I went in overhead as well.”

There was silence for a moment.He hesitated.He very much wanted to go upstairs to get into dry clothing.But there was another desire in him.And she seemed to hold him.His will seemed to have gone to sleep，and left him，standing there slack before her.But he felt warm inside himself.He did not shudder at all，though his clothes were sodden on him.

“Why did you？”she asked.

“Because I didn't want you to do such a foolish thing，”he said.

“It wasn't foolish，”she said，still gazing at him as she lay on the floor，with a sofa cushion under her head.“It was the right thing to do.I knew best，then.”

“I'll go and shift these wet things，”he said.But still he had not the power to move out of her presence，until she sent him.It was as if she had the life of his body in her hands，and he could not extricate himself.Or perhaps he did not want to.

Suddenly she sat up.Then she became aware of her own immediate condition.She felt the blankets about her，she knew her own limbs.For a moment it seemed as if her reason were going.She looked round，with wild eye，as if seeking something.He stood still with fear.She saw her clothing lying scattered.

“Who undressed me？”she asked，her eyes resting full and inevitable on his face.

“I did，”he replied，“to bring you round.”

For some moments she sat and gazed at him awfully，her lips parted.

“Do you love me，then？”she asked.

He only stood and stared at her，fascinated.His soul seemed to melt.

She shuffled forward on her knees，and put her arms round him，round his legs，as he stood there，pressing her breasts against his knees and thighs，clutching him with strange，convulsive certainty，pressing his thighs against her，drawing him to her face，her throat，as she looked up at him with flaring，humble eyes and transfiguration，triumphant in first possession.

“You love me，”she murmured，in strange transport，yearning and triumphant and confident.“You love me.I know you love me，I know.”

And she was passionately kissing his knees，through the wet clothing，passionately and indiscriminately kissing his knees，his legs，as if unaware of everything.

He looked down at the tangled wet hair，the wild，bare，animal shoulders.He was amazed，bewildered and afraid.He had never thought of loving her.He had never wanted to love her.When he rescued her and restored her，he was a doctor，and she was a patient.He had had no single personal thought of her.Nay，this introduction of the personal element was very distasteful to him，a violation of his professional honour.It was horrible to have her there embracing his knees.It was horrible.He revolted from it，violently.And yet――and yet――he had not the power to break away.

She looked at him again，with the same supplication of powerful love，and that same transcendent，frightening light of triumph.In view of the delicate flame which seemed to come from her face like a light，he was powerless.And yet he had never intended to love her.He had never intended.And something stubborn in him could not give way.

“You love me，”she repeated，in a murmur of deep，rhapsodic assurance.“You love me.”

Her hands were drawing him，drawing him down to her.He was afraid，even a little horrified.For he had，really，no intention of loving her.Yet her hands were drawing him towards her.He put out his hand quickly to steady himself，and grasped her bare shoulder.He had no intention of loving her：his whole will was against his yielding.It was horrible.And yet wonderful was the touch of her shoulders，beautiful the shining of her face.Was she perhaps mad？He had a horror of yielding to her.Yet something in him ached also.

He had been staring away at the door，away from her.But his hand remained on her shoulder.She had gone suddenly very still.He looked down at her.Her eyes were now wide with fear，with doubt，the light was dying from her face，a shadow of terrible greyness was returning.He could not bear the touch of her eyes'question upon him，and the look of death behind the question.

With an inward groan he gave way，and let his heart yield towards her.A sudden gentle smile came on his face.And her eyes，which never left his face，slowly，slowly filled with tears.He watched the strange water rise in her eyes，like some slow fountain coming up.And his heart seemed to burn and melt away in his breast.

He could not bear to look at her any more.He dropped on his knees and caught her head with his arms and pressed her face against his throat.She was very still.His heart，which seemed to have broken，was burning with a kind of agony in his breast.And he felt her slow，hot tears wetting his throat.But he could not move.

He felt the hot tears wet his neck and the hollows of his neck，and he remained motionless，suspended through one of man's eternities.Only now it had become indispensable to him to have her face pressed close to him；he could never let her go again.He could never let her head go away from the close crutch of his arm.He wanted to remain like that for ever，with his heart hurting him in a pain that was also life to him.Without knowing，he was looking down on her damp，soft brown hair.

Then，as it were suddenly，he smelt the horrid stagnant smell of that water.And at the same moment she drew away from him and looked at him.Her eyes were wistful and unfathomable.He was afraid of them，and he fell to kissing her，not knowing what he was doing.He wanted her eyes not to have that terrible，wistful，unfathomable look.

When she turned her face to him again，a faint delicate flush was glowing，and there was again dawning that terrible shining of joy in her eyes，which really terrified him，and yet which he now wanted to see，because he feared the look of doubt still more.

“You love me？”she said，rather faltering.

“Yes.”The word cost him a painful effort.Not because it wasn't true.But because it was too newly true，the saying seemed to tear open again his newly-torn heart.And he hardly wanted it to be true，even now.

She lifted her face to him，and he bent forward and kissed her on the mouth，gently，with the one kiss that is an eternal pledge.And as he kissed her his heart strained again in his breast.He never intended to love her.But now it was over.He had crossed over the gulf to her，and all that he had left behind had shrivelled and become void.

After the kiss，her eyes again slowly filled with tears.She sat still，away from him，with her face drooped aside，and her hands folded in her lap.The tears fell very slowly.There was complete silence.HE too sat there motionless and silent on the hearth-rug.The strange pain of his heart that was broken seemed to consume him.That he should love her？That this was love！That he should be ripped open in this way！Him，a doctor！How they would all jeer if they knew！It was agony to him to think they might know.

In the curious naked pain of the thought he looked again to her.She was sitting there drooped into a muse.He saw a tear fall，and his heart flared hot.He saw for the first time that one of her shoulders was quite uncovered，one arm bare，he could see one of her small breasts；dimly，because it had become almost dark in the room.

“Why are you crying？”he asked，in an altered voice.

She looked up at him，and behind her tears the consciousness of her situation for the first time brought a dark look of shame to her eyes.

“I'm not crying，really，”she said，watching him，half-frightened.

He reached his hand，and softly closed it on her bare arm.

“I love you！I love you！'he said in a soft，low vibrating voice，unlike himself.

She shrank，and dropped her head.The soft，penetrating grip of his hand on her arm distressed her.She looked up at him.

“I want to go，“she said.”I want to go and get you some dry things.“

“Why？”he said.“I'm all right.”

“But I want to go，”she said.“And I want you to change your things.”

He released her arm，and she wrapped herself in the blanket，looking at him rather frightened.And still she did not rise.

“Kiss me，”she said wistfully.

He kissed her，but briefly，half in anger.

Then，after a second，she rose nervously，all mixed up in the blanket.He watched her in her confusion as she tried to extricate herself and wrap herself up so that she could walk.He watched her relentlessly，as she knew.And as she went，the blanket trailing，and he saw a glimpse of her feet and her white leg，he tried to remember her as she was when he had wrapped her up in the blanket.But then he didn't want to remember，because she had been nothing to him then，and his nature revolted from remembering her as she was when she was nothing to him.

A tumbling，muffled noise from within the dark house startled him.Then he heard her voice：“There are clothes.”He rose and went to the foot of the stairs，and gathered up the garments she had thrown down.Then he came back to the fire，to rub himself down and dress.He grinned at his own appearance when he had finished.

The fire was sinking，so he put on coal.The house was now quite dark，save for the light of a street-lamp that shone in faintly from beyond the holly trees.He lit the gas with matches he found on the mantelpiece.Then he emptied the pockets of his own clothes，and threw all his wet things in a heap into the scullery.After which he gathered up her sodden clothes，gently，and put them in a separate heap on the copper-top in the scullery.

It was six o'clock on the clock.His own watch had stopped.He ought to go back to the surgery.He waited，and still she did not come down.So he went to the foot of the stairs and called：

“I shall have to go.”

Almost immediately he heard her coming down.She had on her best dress of black voile，and her hair was tidy，but still damp.She looked at him――and in spite of herself，smiled.

“I don't like you in those clothes，”she said.

“Do I look a sight？”he answered.

They were shy of one another.

“I'll make you some tea，”she said.

“No，I must go.”

“Must you？”And she looked at him again with the wide，strained，doubtful eyes.And again，from the pain of his breast，he knew how he loved her.He went and bent to kiss her，gently，passionately，with his heart's painful kiss.

“And my hair smells so horrible，”she murmured in distraction.“And I'm so awful，I'm so awful！Oh no，I'm too awful.”And she broke into bitter，heart-broken sobbing.“You can't want to love me，I'm horrible.”

“Don't be silly，don't be silly，”he said，trying to comfort her，kissing her，holding her in his arms.“I want you，I want to marry you，we're going to be married，quickly，quickly――tomorrow if I can.”

But she only sobbed terribly，and cried：

“I feel awful.I feel awful.I feel I'm horrible to you.”

“No，I want you，I want you，”was all he answered，blindly，with that terrible intonation which frightened her almost more than her horror lest he should not want her.

马贩的女儿

“喂，梅贝尔，你打算自己咋办！”乔问，显得漫不经心，十分可笑。他感到自己非常安然。没等到回答他已转开身，把一小片草叶弄到舌尖，吐出来。他什么也不关心，觉得自己是安全的。

三兄弟和一个妹妹围坐在吃过早餐的桌边，想随意商谈一下。早晨的邮件给这个家庭的命运以最后一击，之后一切都完了。这沉闷的餐室本身，有不少桃花心木家俱，好象也在等待着被处理。

可他们的商谈毫无结果。3个男人身上表现出“徒劳”的奇怪神气，他们懒散地把手伸向桌子，一边抽烟一边模糊地思考着自已的处境。姑娘一个人呆着，她27岁，是个很矮小、阴郁的年轻女人，她可没有哥哥们的那种生活。若不是她脸上那无动于衷的表情——如哥哥们所说，像“叭喇狗”一样——她本来是很好看的。

外面传来杂乱的马蹄声。3个男人全都从椅里转过身去看。一片阴暗的冬青把狭小的草地与公路分开，在它那边，他们看见一群高大有力的拉车马走出围栏，被带出去活动一下。这是最后一次了。它们是最后一批马，将从他们手中转出去。年轻男人们看着，现出不满而麻木的表情。他们都为自己崩溃的生活吓着了，为自己所卷入的灾难感到十分沉重。

然而他们还是3个身强力壮的男子，乔年龄最大，35岁，身体宽大，十分英俊，也显得热切而兴奋。他面容红红的，把黑胡须绞在一根粗壮的手指上；眼浅，不住地转动。他笑时会露出牙齿，颇有性感，举止愚笨。此时他眼睛呆滞，无可奈何地看着马群，现出某种衰败时的麻木状态。

高大的挽马摇摆着身子过去了。它们共4匹，从头到尾被拴着，慢慢朝公路旁的一条小径走去，嘲笑似地把大蹄踩进颇黑的泥里，大肆摆动着圆圆的大屁股。它们被带到角处的小径上时忽然向前跑了几步，每移动一下都显示出厚重懒散，以及使之处于从属地位的愚笨。前面的马夫往后看着，猛拉牵引绳。这一队人马沿小路走出视域，当它们朦朦胧胧摇摆着走到树篱后面去时，最后一匹马突然把尾巴伸得直直的。

乔看着，呆滞的眼睛充满了绝望。那些马几乎就像他自己的身体一样。他感到自己这下完蛋了。幸运的是他和一个同样大的女人订了婚，因此她的父亲——附近一个庄园的管家——会给他找个事做。他会结婚，从此被约束起来。他的生活完了，自己也会成为一只从属的动物。

他不安地转过身，马离去的脚步声回响在耳里。然后他愚笨而烦乱地伸手去拿盘里的熏猪肉碎皮片，轻轻吹一下口哨，把碎皮片丢给爬在围栏边的一只小猎狗。他看着狗狼吞虎咽吃下去，直等到它抬头盯住自己眼睛。这时他微微咧嘴而笑，响亮而可笑地说：

“你再吃不到多少熏猪肉了，知道不，你这小杂——？”

狗忧愁地微微摇一下尾巴，屁股放低，转动着身子，又爬下去。

桌旁另有一个人也无奈何地保持沉默。心烦不安的乔懒懒散散地坐着，家庭会议没结束是不愿走的。费雷德·亨利是老二，他身材挺直，四肢匀均，十分机灵。刚才他看见马过去时更为冷静。假如他像乔一样成为一只动物，他也会成为一只支配而非被支配的动物。他是任何一匹马的主人，带着主子的那种温和神气。可他却无法控制生活的局面。他把粗糙的褐色胡须往上推，露出嘴唇，烦躁地看着妹妹，她无动于衷地坐在那儿，不可思议。

“你会去和露西住些日子，是吗？”他问，但姑娘没回答。

“我看不出你还有别的什么办法，”弗雷德·亨利又说。

“去当女仆，”乔简短地插话道。

姑娘仍一动不动。

“如果我是她，就去学当护士，”马尔科姆说，他在三兄弟中最小，是家里的宝贝，一个22岁的小伙子，长着绝妙漂亮的嘴。

可梅贝尔根本不理他。这么多年来他们都在她身边谈论着，而她几乎什么也没听到。

壁炉上的大理石钟轻轻敲响半小时，狗不安地从炉前地毯上站起，看着早餐桌旁的几个人。可他们仍然坐下去，开着徒劳的家庭会议。

“哦，不错，”乔突然说，什么也没提出。“我得采取行动。”

他把椅子往后一推，叉开两膝猛地向下一蹬，像马一样使之能活动，然后朝炉火旁走去。他仍不离开屋子，很想知道他们会说什么或做什么。他开始装烟斗，盯住下面的狗高声做作地说：

“和我一起走吗？你和我一起走吗？日子会更不好过呢，你听见没有？”

狗轻轻摇着尾巴。他伸出嘴，双手盖住烟斗，一心吐着烟雾，完全沉迷于烟中，并用漫不经心的阴郁眼神一直看着身下的狗。狗抬头望着他，显得悲哀和不信任。乔站着，两膝前伸，真像马一般。

“你收到过露西的信没有？”弗雷德·亨利问妹妹。

“上周收到过，”她不冷不热地回答。

“她说啥了？”

没有回答。

“她让你去那儿暂住一下了吗？”弗雷德·亨利又问。

“她说只要我愿意就可以去。”

“哦，那你最好去。告诉她你星期一去。”

她默不作答。

“你要去的，对吧？”弗雷德·亨利说，有些气愤。

但她仍不回答。房间里一片沉默，大家有种徒劳和恼怒的感觉。马尔科姆傻乎乎地露齿而笑。

“下周星期三以前你得作出决定，”乔大声说，“不然就在路缘石上去找住处。”

年轻女人的脸一下暗下来，但她仍坐着一动不动。

“杰克·弗格森来了！”马尔科姆叫道，他正漫无目标地看着窗外。

“哪里？”乔高声问。

“刚过去。”

“进来了吗？”

马尔科姆伸长脖子看门。

“是的，”他说。

一片沉默。梅贝尔坐在桌头，像个被定了罪的人。这时厨房传来一声口哨，狗站起身发出狂叫。乔打开门大声说：

“来吧。”

片刻后一个青年男子走进来。他裹着一件大衣，系一条紫色羊毛围巾，并没脱下花呢帽而是把头盖得很低。他中等身材，面容又长又白，眼睛现出疲乏的样子。

“你好，杰克！啊，杰克！”马尔科姆和乔喊道。而弗雷德·亨利只说了声“杰克”。

“怎么样？”新来者问，显然在问弗雷德·亨利。

“老样。星期三以前我们得搬出去。——你感冒了吗？”

“嗯——还不轻呢。”

“你干吗不呆在屋里？”

“我呆在屋里？我两腿站不稳时，也许能行。”年轻人沙哑地说，微微带有苏格兰口音。

“一个医生患了感冒嘶哑着声音到处转，”乔嚷道，“真是让人吃惊。病人会觉得这不好，是吧？”

年轻医生淡漠地看着他。

“看来你有什么麻烦？”他嘲弄地问。

“我想没有。你那该死的眼睛，我希望没有。为什么？”

“我先以为你很关心病人，怀疑自己是否也会病倒。”

“该死，一个毫无热情的医生，我才不当他的病人呢，希望我绝不会，”乔回答。

此刻梅贝尔从桌旁站起身，所有人似乎意识到自己的存在。她开始收拾碟子。年轻医生看着她，并没有对她说话。他还没有招呼她。她端着盘碟离开房间，脸上毫无表情变化。

“那你们大家啥时走？”医生问。