耳边名著 | 中英字幕

The time came for my departure from Tahiti. According to the gracious custom of the island, presents were given me by the persons with whom I had been thrown in contact -- baskets made of the leaves of the cocoa-nut tree, mats of pandanus, fans; and Tiare gave me three little pearls and three jars of guava-jelly made with her own plump hands. When the mail-boat, stopping for twenty-four hours on its way from Wellington to San Francisco, blew the whistle that warned the passengers to get on board, Tiare clasped me to her vast bosom, so that I seemed to sink into a billowy sea, and pressed her red lips to mine. Tears glistened in her eyes. And when we steamed slowly out of the lagoon, making our way gingerly through the opening in the reef, and then steered for the open sea, a certain melancholy fell upon me. The breeze was laden still with the pleasant odours of the land. Tahiti is very far away, and I knew that I should never see it again. A chapter of my life was closed, and I felt a little nearer to inevitable death.

Not much more than a month later I was in London; and after I had arranged certain matters which claimed my immediate attention, thinking Mrs. Strickland might like to hear what I knew of her husband's last years, I wrote to her. I had not seen her since long before the war, and I had to look out her address in the telephone-book. She made an appointment, and I went to the trim little house on Campden Hill which she now inhabited. She was by this time a woman of hard on sixty, but she bore her years well, and no one would have taken her for more than fifty. Her face, thin and not much lined, was of the sort that ages gracefully, so that you thought in youth she must have been a much handsomer woman than in fact she was. Her hair, not yet very gray, was becomingly arranged, and her black gown was modish. I remembered having heard that her sister, Mrs. MacAndrew, outliving her husband but a couple of years, had left money to Mrs. Strickland; and by the look of the house and the trim maid who opened the door I judged that it was a sum adequate to keep the widow in modest comfort.

When I was ushered into the drawing-room I found that Mrs. Strickland had a visitor, and when I discovered who he was, I guessed that I had been asked to come at just that time not without intention. The caller was Mr. Van Busche Taylor, an American, and Mrs. Strickland gave me particulars with a charming smile of apology to him.

"You know, we English are so dreadfully ignorant. You must forgive me if it's necessary to explain. " Then she turned to me. "Mr. Van Busche Taylor is the distinguished American critic. If you haven't read his book your education has been shamefully neglected, and you must repair the omission at once. He's writing something about dear Charlie, and he's come to ask me if I can help him. "

Mr. Van Busche Taylor was a very thin man with a large, bald head, bony and shining; and under the great dome of his skull his face, yellow, with deep lines in it, looked very small. He was quiet and exceedingly polite. He spoke with the accent of New England, and there was about his demeanour a bloodless frigidity which made me ask myself why on earth he was busying himself with Charles Strickland. I had been slightly tickled at the gentleness which Mrs. Strickland put into her mention of her husband's name, and while the pair conversed I took stock of the room in which we sat. Mrs. Strickland had moved with the times. Gone were the Morris papers and gone the severe cretonnes, gone were the Arundel prints that had adorned the walls of her drawingroom in Ashley Gardens; the room blazed with fantastic colour, and I wondered if she knew that those varied hues, which fashion had imposed upon her, were due to the dreams of a poor painter in a South Sea island. She gave me the answer herself.

"What wonderful cushions you have, " said Mr. Van Busche Taylor.

"Do you like them?" she said, smiling. "Bakst, you know. "

And yet on the walls were coloured reproductions of several of Strickland's best pictures, due to the enterprise of a publisher in Berlin.

"You're looking at my pictures, " she said, following my eyes. "Of course, the originals are out of my reach, but it's a comfort to have these. The publisher sent them to me himself. They're a great consolation to me. "

"They must be very pleasant to live with, " said Mr. Van Busche Taylor.

"Yes; they're so essentially decorative. "

"That is one of my profoundest convictions, " said Mr. Van Busche Taylor. "Great art is always decorative. "

Their eyes rested on a nude woman suckling a baby, while a girl was kneeling by their side holding out a flower to the indifferent child. Looking over them was a wrinkled, scraggy hag. It was Strickland's version of the Holy Family. I suspected that for the figures had sat his household above Taravao, and the woman and the baby were Ata and his first son. I asked myself if Mrs. Strickland had any inkling of the facts.

The conversation proceeded, and I marvelled at the tact with which Mr. Van Busche Taylor avoided all subjects that might have been in the least embarrassing, and at the ingenuity with which Mrs. Strickland, without saying a word that was untrue, insinuated that her relations with her husband had always been perfect. At last Mr. Van Busche Taylor rose to go. Holding his hostess' hand, he made her a graceful, though perhaps too elaborate, speech of thanks, and left us.

"I hope he didn't bore you, " she said, when the door closed behind him. "Of course it's a nuisance sometimes, but I feel it's only right to give people any information I can about Charlie. There's a certain responsibility about having been the wife of a genius. "

She looked at me with those pleasant eyes of hers, which had remained as candid and as sympathetic as they had been more than twenty years before. I wondered if she was making a fool of me.

"Of course you've given up your business, " I said.

"Oh, yes, " she answered airily. "I ran it more by way of a hobby than for any other reason, and my children persuaded me to sell it. They thought I was overtaxing my strength. "

I saw that Mrs. Strickland had forgotten that she had ever done anything so disgraceful as to work for her living. She had the true instinct of the nice woman that it is only really decent for her to live on other people's money.

"They're here now, " she said. "I thought they'd, like to hear what you had to say about their father. You remember Robert, don't you? I'm glad to say he's been recommended for the Military Cross. "

She went to the door and called them. There entered a tall man in khaki, with the parson's collar, handsome in a somewhat heavy fashion, but with the frank eyes that I remembered in him as a boy. He was followed by his sister. She must have been the same age as was her mother when first I knew her, and she was very like her. She too gave one the impression that as a girl she must have been prettier than indeed she was.

"I suppose you don't remember them in the least, " said Mrs. Strickland, proud and smiling. "My daughter is now Mrs. Ronaldson. Her husband's a Major in the Gunners. "

"He's by way of being a pukka soldier, you know, " said Mrs. Ronaldson gaily. "That's why he's only a Major. "

I remembered my anticipation long ago that she would marry a soldier. It was inevitable. She had all the graces of the soldier's wife. She was civil and affable, but she could hardly conceal her intimate conviction that she was not quite as others were. Robert was breezy.

"It's a bit of luck that I should be in London when you turned up, " he said. "I've only got three days' leave. "

"He's dying to get back, " said his mother.

"Well, I don't mind confessing it, I have a rattling good time at the front. I've made a lot of good pals. It's a first-rate life. Of course war's terrible, and all that sort of thing; but it does bring out the best qualities in a man, there's no denying that. "

Then I told them what I had learned about Charles Strickland in Tahiti. I thought it unnecessary to say anything of Ata and her boy, but for the rest I was as accurate as I could be. When I had narrated his lamentable death I ceased. For a minute or two we were all silent. Then Robert Strickland struck a match and lit a cigarette.

"The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small, " he said, somewhat impressively.

Mrs. Strickland and Mrs. Ronaldson looked down with a slightly pious expression which indicated, I felt sure, that they thought the quotation was from Holy Writ. Indeed, I was unconvinced that Robert Strickland did not share their illusion. I do not know why I suddenly thought of Strickland's son by Ata. They had told me he was a merry, light-hearted youth. I saw him, with my mind's eye, on the schooner on which he worked, wearing nothing but a pair of dungarees; and at night, when the boat sailed along easily before a light breeze, and the sailors were gathered on the upper deck, while the captain and the supercargo lolled in deck-chairs, smoking their pipes, I saw him dance with another lad, dance wildly, to the wheezy music of the concertina. Above was the blue sky, and the stars, and all about the desert of the Pacific Ocean.

A quotation from the Bible came to my lips, but I held my tongue, for I know that clergymen think it a little blasphemous when the laity poach upon their preserves. My Uncle Henry, for twenty-seven years Vicar of Whitstable, was on these occasions in the habit of saying that the devil could always quote scripture to his purpose. He remembered the days when you could get thirteen Royal Natives for a shilling.

我离开塔希提的日子已经到了。根据岛上好客的习惯，凡是萍水相逢和我有一面之识的人临别时都送给我一些礼物——椰子树叶编的筐子、露兜树叶织的席、扇子……。蒂阿瑞给我的是三颗小珍珠和用她一双胖手亲自做的三罐番石榴酱。最后，当从惠灵顿开往旧金山的邮船在码头停泊了二十四小时，汽笛长鸣，招呼旅客上船的时候，蒂阿瑞把我搂在她肥大的胸脯里（我有一种掉在波涛汹涌的大海中的感觉），眼睛里闪着泪珠，把她的红嘴唇贴在我的嘴上。轮船缓缓驶出咸水湖，从珊瑚礁的一个通道小心谨慎地开到广阔的海面上，这时，一阵忧伤突然袭上我的心头。空气里仍然弥漫着从陆地飘来的令人心醉的香气，塔希提离我却已经非常遥远了。我知道我再也不会看到它了。我的生命史又翻过了一页；我觉得自己距离那谁也逃脱不掉的死亡又迈近了一步。

一个月零几天以后，我回到了伦敦。我把几件亟待处理的事办好以后，想到思特里克兰德太太或许愿意知道一下她丈夫最后几年的情况，便给她写了一封信。从大战前很长一段日子我们就没有见面了，我不知道她这时住在什么地方，只好翻了一下电话簿才找到她的地址。她在回信里约定了一个日子，到了那一天，我便到她在坎普登山的新居——一所很整齐的小房子——去登门造访。这时思特里克兰德太太已经快六十岁了，但是她的相貌一点儿也不显老，谁也不会相信她是五十开外的人。她的脸比较瘦，皱纹不多，是那种年龄很难刻上凿痕的面孔，你会觉得年轻时她一定是个美人，比她实际相貌要漂亮得多。她的头发没有完全灰白，梳理得恰合自己的身份，身上的黑色长衫样子非常时兴。我仿佛听人说过，她的姐姐麦克安德鲁太太在丈夫死后几年也去世了，给思特里克兰德太太留下一笔钱。从她现在的住房和给我们开门的使女的整齐利落的样子看，我猜想这笔钱是足够叫这位寡妇过着小康的日子的。

我被领进客厅以后才发现屋里还有一位客人。当我了解了这位客人的身份以后，我猜想思特里克兰德太太约我在这个时间来，不是没有目的的。这位来客是凡·布施·泰勒先生，一位美国人；思特里克兰德太太一边表示歉意地对他展露着可爱的笑容，一边详细地给我介绍他的情况。

“你知道，我们英国人见闻狭窄，简直太可怕了。如果我不得不做些解释，你一定得原谅我。”接着她转过来对我说：“凡·布施·泰勒先生就是那位美国最有名的评论家。如果你没有读过他的著作，你的教育可未免太欠缺了；你必须立刻着手弥补一下。泰勒先生现在正在写一点儿东西，关于亲爱的查理斯的。他特地来我这里看看我能不能帮他的忙。”

凡·布施·泰勒先生身体非常削瘦，生着一个大秃脑袋，骨头支棱着，头皮闪闪发亮；大宽脑门下面一张脸面色焦黄，满是皱纹，显得枯干瘦小。他举止文静，彬彬有礼，说话时带着些新英格兰州口音。这个人给我的印象非常僵硬刻板，毫无热情；我真不知道他怎么会想到要研究查理斯·思特里克兰德来。思特里克兰德太太在提到她死去的丈夫时，语气非常温柔，我暗自觉得好笑。在这两人谈话的当儿，我把我们坐的这间客厅打量了一番。思特里克兰德太太是个紧跟时尚的人。她在阿施里花园旧居时那些室内装饰都不见了，墙上糊的不再是莫里斯墙纸，家具上套的不再是色彩朴素的印花布，旧日装饰着客厅四壁的阿伦德尔图片也都撤下去了。现在这间客厅是一片光怪陆离的颜色，我很怀疑，她知道不知道她把屋子装点得五颜六色的这种风尚都是因为南海岛屿上一个可怜的画家有过这种幻梦。对我的这个疑问她自己作出了回答。

“你这些靠垫真是太了不起了，”凡·布施·泰勒先生说。

“你喜欢吗？”她笑着说，“巴克斯特①设计的，你知道。”

①雷昂·尼古拉耶维奇·巴克斯特（1866—1924），俄罗斯画家和舞台设计家。

但是墙上还挂着几张思特里克兰德的最好画作的彩色复制品；这该归功于柏林一家颇具野心的印刷商。

“你在看我的画呢，”看到我的目光所向，她说，“当然了，他的原画我无法弄到手，但是有了这些也足够了。这是出版商主动送给我的。对我来说真是莫大的安慰。”

“每天能欣赏这些画，实在是很大的乐趣，”凡·布施·泰勒先生说。

“一点儿不错。这些画是极有装饰意义的。”

“这也是我的一个最基本的看法，”凡·布施·泰勒先生说，“伟大的艺术从来就是最富于装饰价值的。”

他们的目光落在一个给孩子喂奶的裸体女人身上，女人身旁还有一个年轻女孩子跪着给小孩递去一朵花，小孩却根本不去注意。一个满脸皱纹、皮包骨的老太婆在旁边看着她们。这是思特里克兰德画的神圣家庭。我猜想画中人物都是他在塔拉窝村附近那所房子里的寄居者，而那个喂奶的女人和她怀里的婴儿就是爱塔和他们的第一个孩子。我很想知道思特里克兰德太太对这些事是不是也略知一二。

谈话继续下去。我非常佩服凡·布施·泰勒先生的老练；凡是令人感到尴尬的话题，他完全回避掉。我也非常惊奇思特里克兰德太太的圆滑；尽管她没有说一句不真实的话，却充分暗示了她同自己丈夫的关系非常融睦，从来没有任何嫌隙。最后，凡·布施·泰勒先生起身告辞，他握着女主人的一只手，向她说了一大篇优美动听、但未免过于造作的感谢词，便离开了我们。

“我希望这个人没有使你感到厌烦，”当门在凡·布施·泰勒的身背后关上以后，思特里克兰德太太说。“当然了，有时候也实在让人讨厌，但是我总觉得，有人来了解查理斯的情况，我是应该尽量把我知道的提供给人家的。作为一个伟大天才的未亡人，这该是一种义务吧。”

她用她那一对可爱的眼睛望着我，她的目光非常真挚，非常亲切，同二十多年以前完全一样。我有点儿怀疑她是不是在耍弄我。

“你那个打字所大概早就停业了吧？”我说。

“啊，当然了，”她大大咧咧地说，“当年我开那家打字所主要也是为了觉得好玩，没有其他什么原因。后来我的两个孩子都劝我把它出让给别人。他们认为太耗损我的精神了。”

我发现思特里克兰德太太已经忘记了她曾不得不自食其力这一段不光彩的历史。同任何一个正派女人一样，她真实地相信只有依靠别人养活自己才是规矩的行为。

“他们都在家，”她说，“我想你给他们谈谈他们父亲的事，他们一定很愿意听的。你还记得罗伯特吧？我很高兴能够告诉你，他的名字已经提上去，就快要领陆军十字勋章了。”

她走到门口去招呼他们。走进来一个穿卡其服的高大男人，脖子上系着牧师戴的硬领。这人生得身材魁梧，有一种壮健的美，一双眼睛仍然和他童年时期一样真挚爽朗。跟在他后面的是他妹妹；她这时一定同我初次见到她母亲时年龄相仿。她长得非常象她母亲，也给人这样的印象：小时候长得一定要比实际上更漂亮。

“我想你一定一点儿也不记得他俩了，”思特里克兰德太太说，骄傲地笑了笑。“我的女儿现在是朵纳尔德逊太太了，她丈夫是炮兵团的少校。”

“他是一个真正从士兵出身的军人，”朵纳尔德逊太太高高兴兴地说，“所以现在刚刚是个少校。”

我想起很久以前我的预言：她将来一定会嫁一个军人。看来这件事早已注定了。她的风度完全是个军人的妻子。她对人和蔼亲切，但另一方面她几乎毫不掩饰自己内心的信念，她同一般人是有所不同的。罗伯特的情绪非常高。

“真是太巧了，你这次来正赶上我在伦敦，”他说，“我只有三天假。”

“他一心想赶快回去，”他母亲说。

“啊，这我承认，我在前线过得可太有趣儿了。我交了不少朋友。那里的生活真是顶呱呱的。当然了，战争是可怕的，那些事儿大家都非常清楚。但是战争确实能表现出一个人的优秀本质，这一点谁也不能否认。”

这以后我把我听到的查理斯·思特里克兰德在塔希提的情形给他们讲了一遍。我认为没有必要提到爱塔和她生的孩子，但是其余的事我都如实说了。在我谈完他惨死的情况以后我就没有再往下说了。有一两分钟大家都没有说话。后来罗伯特·思特里克兰德划了根火柴，点着了一支纸烟。

“上帝的磨盘转动很慢，但是却磨得很细，”罗伯特说，颇有些道貌岸然的样子。

思特里克兰德太太和朵纳尔德逊太太满腹虔诚地低下头来。我一点儿也不怀疑，这母女两人所以表现得这么虔诚是因为她们都认为罗伯特刚才是从《圣经》上引证了一句话①。说实在的，就连罗伯特本人是否绝对无此错觉，我也不敢肯定。不知为什么，我突然想到爱塔给思特里克兰德生的那个孩子。听别人说，这是个活泼、开朗、快快活活的小伙子。在想象中，我仿佛看见一艘双桅大帆船，这个年轻人正在船上干活儿，他浑身赤裸，只在腰间围着一块粗蓝布；天黑了，船儿被清风吹动着，轻快地在海面上滑行，水手们都聚集在上层甲板上，船长和一个管货的人员坐在帆布椅上自由自在地抽着烟斗。思特里克兰德的孩子同另一个小伙子跳起舞来，在暗哑的手风琴声中，他们疯狂地跳着。头顶上是一片碧空，群星熠熠，太平洋烟波淼茫，浩瀚无垠。

①罗伯特所说“上帝的磨盘”一语，许多外国诗人学者都曾讲过。美国诗人朗费罗也写过类似诗句，并非出自《圣经》。

《圣经》上的另一句话也到了我的唇边，但是我却控制着自己，没有说出来，因为我知道牧师不喜欢俗人侵犯他们的领域，他们认为这是有渎神明的。我的亨利叔叔在威特斯台柏尔教区做了二十七年牧师，遇到这种机会就会说：魔鬼要干坏事总可以引证《圣经》。他一直忘不了一个先令就可以买十三只大牡蛎的日子。

AT that moment we were interrupted by the appearance of Madame Coutras, who had been paying visits. She came in, like a ship in full sail, an imposing creature, tall and stout, with an ample bust and an obesity girthed in alarmingly by straight-fronted corsets. She had a bold hooked nose and three chins. She held herself upright. She had not yielded for an instant to the enervating charm of the tropics, but contrariwise was more active, more worldly, more decided than anyone in a temperate clime would have thought it possible to be. She was evidently a copious talker, and now poured forth a breathless stream of anecdote and comment. She made the conversation we had just had seem far away and unreal.

Presently Dr. Coutras turned to me.

"I still have in my bureau the picture that Strickland gave me, " he said. "Would you like to see it?"

"Willingly. "

We got up, and he led me on to the verandah which surrounded his house. We paused to look at the gay flowers that rioted in his garden.

"For a long time I could not get out of my head the recollection of the extraordinary decoration with which Strickland had covered the walls of his house, " he said reflectively.

I had been thinking of it, too. It seemed to me that here Strickland had finally put the whole expression of himself. Working silently, knowing that it was his last chance, I fancied that here he must have said all that he knew of life and all that he divined. And I fancied that perhaps here he had at last found peace. The demon which possessed him was exorcised at last, and with the completion of the work, for which all his life had been a painful preparation, rest descended on his remote and tortured soul. He was willing to die, for he had fulfilled his purpose.

"What was the subject?" I asked.

"I scarcely know. It was strange and fantastic. It was a vision of the beginnings of the world, the Garden of Eden, with Adam and Eve -- que sais-je? -- it was a hymn to the beauty of the human form, male and female, and the praise of Nature, sublime, indifferent, lovely, and cruel. It gave you an awful sense of the infinity of space and of the endlessness of time. Because he painted the trees I see about me every day, the cocoa-nuts, the banyans, the flamboyants, the alligator-pears, I have seen them ever since differently, as though there were in them a spirit and a mystery which I am ever on the point of seizing and which forever escapes me. The colours were the colours familiar to me, and yet they were different. They had a significance which was all their own. And those nude men and women. They were of the earth, and yet apart from it. They seemed to possess something of the clay of which they were created, and at the same time something divine. You saw man in the nakedness of his primeval instincts, and you were afraid, for you saw yourself. "

Dr. Coutras shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"You will laugh at me. I am a materialist, and I am a gross, fat man -- Falstaff, eh? -- the lyrical mode does not become me. I make myself ridiculous. But I have never seen painting which made so deep an impression upon me. Tenez, I had just the same feeling as when I went to the Sistine Chapel in Rome. There too I was awed by the greatness of the man who had painted that ceiling. It was genius, and it was stupendous and overwhelming. I felt small and insignificant. But you are prepared for the greatness of Michael Angelo. Nothing had prepared me for the immense surprise of these pictures in a native hut, far away from civilisation, in a fold of the mountain above Taravao. And Michael Angelo is sane and healthy. Those great works of his have the calm of the sublime; but here, notwithstanding beauty, was something troubling. I do not know what it was. It made me uneasy. It gave me the impression you get when you are sitting next door to a room that you know is empty, but in which, you know not why, you have a dreadful consciousness that notwithstanding there is someone. You scold yourself; you know it is only your nerves -- and yet, and yet. . . In a little while it is impossible to resist the terror that seizes you, and you are helpless in the clutch of an unseen horror. Yes; I confess I was not altogether sorry when I heard that those strange masterpieces had been destroyed. "

"Destroyed?" I cried.

" Mais oui; did you not know?"

"How should I know? It is true I had never heard of this work; but I thought perhaps it had fallen into the hands of a private owner. Even now there is no certain list of Strickland's paintings. "

"When he grew blind he would sit hour after hour in those two rooms that he had painted, looking at his works with sightless eyes, and seeing, perhaps, more than he had ever seen in his life before. Ata told me that he never complained of his fate, he never lost courage. To the end his mind remained serene and undisturbed. But he made her promise that when she had buried him -- did I tell you that I dug his grave with my own hands, for none of the natives would approach the infected house, and we buried him, she and I, sewn up in three pareos joined together, under the mango-tree -- he made her promise that she would set fire to the house and not leave it till it was burned to the ground and not a stick remained. "

I did not speak for a while, for I was thinking. Then I said:

"He remained the same to the end, then. "

"Do you understand? I must tell you that I thought it my duty to dissuade her. "

"Even after what you have just said?"

"Yes; for I knew that here was a work of genius, and I did not think we had the right to deprive the world of it. But Ata would not listen to me. She had promised. I would not stay to witness the barbarous deed, and it was only afterwards that I heard what she had done. She poured paraffin on the dry floors and on the pandanus-mats, and then she set fire. In a little while nothing remained but smouldering embers, and a great masterpiece existed no longer.

"I think Strickland knew it was a masterpiece. He had achieved what he wanted. His life was complete. He had made a world and saw that it was good. Then, in pride and contempt, he destroyed, it. "

"But I must show you my picture, " said Dr. Coutras, moving on.

"What happened to Ata and the child?"

They went to the Marquesas. She had relations there. I have heard that the boy works on one of Cameron's schooners. They say he is very like his father in appearance. "

At the door that led from the verandah to the doctor's consulting-room, he paused and smiled.

"It is a fruit-piece. You would think it not a very suitable picture for a doctor's consulting-room, but my wife will not have it in the drawing-room. She says it is frankly obscene. "

"A fruit-piece!" I exclaimed in surprise.

We entered the room, and my eyes fell at once on the picture. I looked at it for a long time.

It was a pile of mangoes, bananas, oranges, and I know not what. and at first sight it was an innocent picture enough. It would have been passed in an exhibition of the Post- Impressionists by a careless person as an excellent but not very remarkable example of the school; but perhaps afterwards it would come back to his recollection, and he would wonder why. I do not think then he could ever entirely forget it.

The colours were so strange that words can hardly tell what a troubling emotion they gave. They were sombre blues, opaque like a delicately carved bowl in lapis lazuli, and yet with a quivering lustre that suggested the palpitation of mysterious life; there were purples, horrible like raw and putrid flesh, and yet with a glowing, sensual passion that called up vague memories of the Roman Empire of Heliogabalus; there were reds, shrill like the berries of holly -- one thought of Christmas in England, and the snow, the good cheer, and the pleasure of children -- and yet by some magic softened till they had the swooning tenderness of a dove's breast; there were deep yellows that died with an unnatural passion into a green as fragrant as the spring and as pure as the sparkling water of a mountain brook. Who can tell what anguished fancy made these fruits? They belonged to a Polynesian garden of the Hesperides. There was something strangely alive in them, as though they were created in a stage of the earth's dark history when things were not irrevocably fixed to their forms. They were extravagantly luxurious. They were heavy with tropical odours. They seemed to possess a sombre passion of their own. It was enchanted fruit, to taste which might open the gateway to God knows what secrets of the soul and to mysterious palaces of the imagination. They were sullen with unawaited dangers, and to eat them might turn a man to beast or god. All that was healthy and natural, all that clung to happy relationships and the simple joys of simple men, shrunk from them in dismay; and yet a fearful attraction was in them, and, like the fruit on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil they were terrible with the possibilities of the Unknown.

At last I turned away. I felt that Strickland had kept his secret to the grave.

" Voyons, Rene, mon ami, " came the loud, cheerful voice of Madame Coutras, "what are you doing all this time? Here are the aperitifs. Ask Monsieur if he will not drink a little glass of Quinquina Dubonnet. "

" Volontiers, Madame, " I said, going out on to the verandah.

The spell was broken.

这时候库特拉斯太太看朋友回来，我们的谈话暂时被打断了。库特拉斯太太象一只帆篷张得鼓鼓的小船，精神抖擞地闯了进来。她是个又高大又肥胖的女人，胸部膨脝饱满，却紧紧勒着束胸。她生着一个大鹰钩鼻，下巴耷拉着三圈肥肉，身躯挺得笔直。尽管热带气候一般总是叫人慵懒无力，对她却丝毫没有影响。相反地，库特拉斯太太又精神又世故，行动敏捷果断，在这种叫人昏昏欲睡的地带里，谁也想不到她有这么充沛的精力。此外，她显然还是个非常健谈的人；自踏进屋门的一分钟起，她就谈论这个、品评那个，话语滔滔不绝。我们刚才那场谈话在库特拉斯太太进屋以后显得非常遥远、非常不真实了。

过了一会儿，库特拉斯医生对我说：

“思特里克兰德给我的那幅画一直挂在我的书房①里。你要去看看吗？”

①原文为法语。

“我很想看看。”

我们站起来，医生领着我走到室外环绕着这幢房子的阳台上。我们在外面站了一会儿，看了看他花园里争奇斗妍的绚烂的鲜花。

“看了思特里克兰德用来装饰他房屋四壁的那些奇异的画幅，很久很久我老是忘不掉，”他沉思地说。

我脑子里想的也正是这件事。看来思特里克兰德终于把他的内心世界完全表现出来了。他默默无言地工作着，心里非常清楚，这是他一生中最后一个机会了。我想思特里克兰德一定把他理解的生活、把他的慧眼所看到的世界用图象表示了出来。我还想，他在创作这些巨画时也许终于寻找到心灵的平静；缠绕着他的魔鬼最后被拔除了。他痛苦的一生似乎就是为这些壁画做准备，在图画完成的时候，他那远离尘嚣的受折磨的灵魂也就得到了安息。对于死他勿宁说抱着一种欢迎的态度，因为他一生追求的目的已经达到了。

“他的画主题是什么？”我问。

“我说不太清楚。他的画奇异而荒诞，好象是宇宙初创时的图景——伊甸园，亚当和夏娃……我怎么知道呢①？是对人体美——男性和女性的形体——的一首赞美诗，是对大自然的颂歌；大自然，既崇高又冷漠，既美丽又残忍……它使你感到空间的无限和时间的永恒，叫你产生一种畏惧的感觉。他画了许多树，椰子树、榕树、火焰花、鳄梨……所有那些我天天看到的；但是这些树经他一画，我再看的时候就完全不同了，我仿佛看到它们都有了灵魂，都各自有一个秘密，仿佛它们的灵魂和秘密眼看就要被我抓到手里，但又总是被它们逃脱掉。那些颜色都是我熟悉的颜色，可是又有所不同；它们都具有自己的独特的重要性。而那些赤身裸体的男男女女，他们既都是尘寰的、是他们揉捏而成的尘土，又都是神灵。人的最原始的天性赤裸裸地呈现在你眼前，你看到的时候不由得感到恐惧，因为你看到的是你自己。”

①原文为法语。

库特拉斯医生耸了一下肩膀，脸上露出笑容。

“你会笑我的。我是个实利主义者，我生得又蠢又胖——有点儿象福斯塔夫②，对不对？——抒情诗的感情对我是很不合适的。我在惹人发笑。但是我真的还从来没有看过哪幅画给我留下这么深的印象。说老实话③，我看这幅画时的心情，就象我进了罗马塞斯廷小教堂一样。在那里我也是感到在天花板上绘画的那个画家非常伟大，又敬佩又畏服。那真是天才的画，气势磅礴，叫人感到头晕目眩。在这样伟大的壁画前面，我感到自己非常渺小，微不足道。但是人们对米开朗基罗的伟大还是有心理准备的，而在这样一个土人住的小木房子里，远离文明世界，在俯瞰塔拉窝村庄的群山怀抱里，我却根本没想到会看到这样令人吃惊的艺术作品。另外，米开朗基罗神智健全，身体健康。他的那些伟大作品给人以崇高、肃穆的感觉。但是在这里，虽然我看到的也是美，却叫我觉得心神不安。我不知道那究竟是什么，但它确实叫我不能平静。它给我一种印象，仿佛我正坐在一间空荡荡的屋子隔壁，我知道那间屋子是空的，但不知为什么，我又觉得里面有一个人，叫我惊恐万状。你责骂你自己吧；你知道这只不过是你的神经在作祟——但是，但是……过一小会儿，你就再也不能抗拒那紧紧捕捉住你的恐惧了。你被握在一种无形的恐怖的掌心里，无法逃脱。是的，我承认当我听到这些奇异的杰作被毁掉的时候，我并不是只觉得遗憾的。”

②莎士比亚戏剧《亨利四世》中人物，身体肥胖，喜爱吹牛。

③原文为法语。

“怎么，毁掉了？”我喊起来。

“是啊①。你不知道吗？”

①原文为法语。

“我怎么会知道？我没听说过这些作品倒是事实，但是我还以为它们落到某个私人收藏家手里去了呢。思特里克兰德究竟画了多少画儿，直到今天始终没有人编制出目录来。”

“自从眼睛瞎了以后他就总是一动不动地坐在那两间画着壁画的屋子里，一坐就是几个钟头。他用一对失明的眼睛望着自己的作品，也许他看到的比他一生中看到的还要多。爱塔告诉我，他对自己的命运从来也没有抱怨过，他从来也不沮丧。直到生命最后一刻，他的心智一直是安详、恬静的。但是他叫爱塔作出诺言，在她把他埋葬以后——我告诉你没有，他的墓穴是我亲手挖的，因为没有一个土人肯走近这所沾染了病菌的房子，我们俩把他埋葬在那株芒果树底下，我同爱塔，他的尸体是用三块帕利欧缝在一起包裹起来的——他叫爱塔保证，放火把房子烧掉，而且要她亲眼看着房子烧光，在每一根木头都烧掉以前不要走开。”

半天半天我没有说话；我陷入沉思中，最后我说：

“这么说来，他至死也没有变啊。”

“你了解吗？我必须告诉你，当时我觉得自己有责任劝阻她，叫她不要这么做。”

“后来你真是这样说了吗？”

“是的。因为我知道这是一个伟大天才的杰作，而且我认为，我们是没有权利叫人类失去它的。但是爱塔不听我的劝告。她已经答应过他了。我不愿意继续待在那儿，亲眼看着那野蛮的破坏活动。只是事情过后我才听人说，她是怎样干的。她在干燥的地板上和草席上倒上煤油，点起一把火来。没过半晌，这座房子就变成了焦炭，一幅伟大的杰作就这样化为灰烬了。”

“我想思特里克兰德也知道这是一幅杰作。他已经得到了自己所追求的东西。他可以说死而无憾了。他创造了一个世界，也看到自己的创造多么美好。以后，在骄傲和轻蔑的心情中，他又把它毁掉了。”

“我还是得让你看看我的画，”库特拉斯医生说，继续往前走。

“爱塔同他们的孩子后来怎样了？”

“他们搬到马尔奎撒群岛去了。她那里有亲属。我听说他们的孩子在一艘喀麦隆的双桅帆船上当水手。人们都说他长得很象死去的父亲。”

走到从阳台通向诊疗室的门口，库特拉斯医生站住，对我笑了笑。

“我的画是一幅水果静物画。你也许觉得诊疗室里挂着这样一幅画不很适宜，但是我的妻子却绝对不让它挂在客厅里。她说这张画给人一种猥亵感。”

“水果静物会叫人感到猥亵？”我吃惊地喊起来。

我们走进屋子，我的眼睛立刻落到这幅画上。很久很久我一直看着它。

画的是一堆水果：芒果、香蕉、桔子，还有一些我叫不出名字的东西。第一眼望去，这幅画一点儿也没有什么怪异的地方。如果摆在后期印象派的画展上，一个不经心的人会认为这是张满不错的、但也并非什么杰出的画幅，从风格上讲，同这一学派也没有什么不同。但是看过以后，说不定这幅画就总要回到他的记忆里，甚至连他自己也不知道为什么。据我估计，从此以后他就永远也不能把它忘掉了。

这幅画的着色非常怪异，叫人感到心神不宁，其感觉是很难确切说清的。浓浊的蓝色是不透明的，有如刻工精细的青金石雕盘，但又颤动着闪闪光泽，令人想到生活的神秘悸动；紫色象腐肉似的叫人感到嫌恶，但与此同时又勾起一种炽热的欲望，令人模糊想到亥里俄嘉巴鲁斯①统治下的罗马帝国；红色鲜艳刺目，有如冬青灌木结的小红果——一个人会联想英国的圣诞节，白雪皑皑，欢乐的气氛和儿童的笑语喧哗——，但画家又运用自己的魔笔，使这种光泽柔和下来，让它呈现出有如乳鸽胸脯一样的柔嫩，叫人神怡心驰；深黄色有些突兀地转成绿色，给人带来春天的芳香和溅着泡沫的山泉的明净。谁能知道，是什么痛苦的幻想创造出这些果实的呢？该不是看管金苹果园的赫斯珀里得斯三姐妹②在波利尼西亚果园中培植出来的吧！奇怪的是，这些果实都象活的一样，仿佛是在混沌初开时创造出来的，当时任何事物还都没有固定的形体，丰实肥硕，散发着浓郁的热带气息，好象具有一种独特的忧郁的感情。它们是被施展了魔法的果子，任何人尝了就能打开通向不知道哪些灵魂秘密的门扉，就可以走进幻境的神秘宫殿。它们孕育着无法预知的危险，咬一口就可能把一个人变成野兽，但也说不定变成神灵。一切健康的、正常的东西，淳朴人们所有的一切美好的情谊、朴素的欢乐都远远地避开了它们；但它们又具有莫大的诱惑力，就象伊甸园中能分辨善恶的智慧果一样，能把人带进未知的境界。

①一名埃拉嘉巴鲁斯（205？—222），罗马帝国皇帝。

②根据希腊神话，赫斯珀里得斯姐妹负责看管赫拉女神的金苹果树，并有巨龙拉冬帮助守卫。

最后，我离开了这幅画。我觉得思特里克兰德一直把他的秘密带进了坟墓。

“喂，雷耐，亲爱的①，”外面传来了库特拉斯太太的兴高采烈的响亮的声音，“这么半天，你在干什么啊？开胃酒②已经准备好了。问问那位先生③愿意不愿意喝一小杯规那皮杜邦内酒。”

①②③原文为法语。

“当然愿意，夫人④，”我一边说一边走到阳台上去。

④原文为法语。

图画的魅力被打破了。

Then two years more went by, or perhaps three, for time passes imperceptibly in Tahiti, and it is hard to keep count of it; but at last a message was brought to Dr. Coutras that Strickland was dying. Ata had waylaid the cart that took the mail into Papeete, and besought the man who drove it to go at once to the doctor. But the doctor was out when the summons came, and it was evening when he received it. It was impossible to start at so late an hour, and so it was not till next day soon after dawn that he set out. He arrived at Taravao, and for the last time tramped the seven kilometres that led to Ata's house. The path was overgrown, and it was clear that for years now it had remained all but untrodden. It was not easy to find the way. Sometimes he had to stumble along the bed of the stream, and sometimes he had to push through shrubs, dense and thorny; often he was obliged to climb over rocks in order to avoid the hornet-nests that hung on the trees over his head. The silence was intense.

It was with a sigh of relief that at last he came upon the little unpainted house, extraordinarily bedraggled now, and unkempt; but here too was the same intolerable silence. He walked up, and a little boy, playing unconcernedly in the sunshine, started at his approach and fled quickly away: to him the stranger was the enemy. Dr. Coutras had a sense that the child was stealthily watching him from behind a tree. The door was wide open. He called out, but no one answered. He stepped in. He knocked at a door, but again there was no answer. He turned the handle and entered. The stench that assailed him turned him horribly sick. He put his handkerchief to his nose and forced himself to go in. The light was dim, and after the brilliant sunshine for a while he could see nothing. Then he gave a start. He could not make out where he was. He seemed on a sudden to have entered a magic world. He had a vague impression of a great primeval forest and of naked people walking beneath the trees. Then he saw that there were paintings on the walls.

" Mon Dieu, I hope the sun hasn't affected me, " he muttered.

A slight movement attracted his attention, and he saw that Ata was lying on the floor, sobbing quietly.

"Ata, " he called. "Ata. "

She took no notice. Again the beastly stench almost made him faint, and he lit a cheroot. His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and now he was seized by an overwhelming sensation as he stared at the painted walls. He knew nothing of pictures, but there was something about these that extraordinarily affected him. From floor to ceiling the walls were covered with a strange and elaborate composition. It was indescribably wonderful and mysterious. It took his breath away. It filled him with an emotion which he could not understand or analyse. He felt the awe and the delight which a man might feel who watched the beginning of a world. It was tremendous, sensual, passionate; and yet there was something horrible there, too, something which made him afraid. It was the work of a man who had delved into the hidden depths of nature and had discovered secrets which were beautiful and fearful too. It was the work of a man who knew things which it is unholy for men to know. There was something primeval there and terrible. It was not human. It brought to his mind vague recollections of black magic. It was beautiful and obscene.

" Mon Dieu, this is genius. "

The words were wrung from him, and he did not know he had spoken.

Then his eyes fell on the bed of mats in the corner, and he went up, and he saw the dreadful, mutilated, ghastly object which had been Strickland. He was dead. Dr. Coutras made an effort of will and bent over that battered horror. Then he started violently, and terror blazed in his heart, for he felt that someone was behind him. It was Ata. He had not heard her get up. She was standing at his elbow, looking at what he looked at.

"Good Heavens, my nerves are all distraught, " he said. "You nearly frightened me out of my wits. "

He looked again at the poor dead thing that had been man, and then he started back in dismay.

"But he was blind. "

"Yes; he had been blind for nearly a year. "

两年又过去了，也许是三年，因为在塔希提，时间总是不知不觉地流逝过去，没有人费心去计算。但是最后终于有人给库特拉斯医生带来个信儿，说是思特里克兰德很快就要死了。爱塔在路上拦住一辆往帕皮提递送邮件的马车，请求赶车的人立刻到医生那里去一趟。但是消息带到的时候，医生恰巧不在家。直到傍晚他才听到这个信儿。天已经太晚了，他当天无法动身；他是第二天清早才启程去的。他首先到了塔拉窝，然后下车步行；这是他最后一次走七公里的路到爱塔家去。小路几乎已被荒草遮住，看来已经有好几年没有行人的足迹了。路很不好走；有时候他得跋涉过一段河滩；有时候他得分开长满荆棘的茂密的矮树丛。有好几次他不得不从岩石上爬过去，为了躲避挂在头顶树枝上的野蜂窝。密林里万籁无声。

最后他走到那座没有油漆过的木房子前面时，他长舒了一口气。这所房子现在已经破旧得不成样子，而且一片龌龊，不堪入目。迎接他的仍是一片无法忍受的寂静。他走到阳台上，一个小孩儿正在阳光底下玩儿，一看见他便飞快地跑掉了；在这个孩子的眼睛里，所有陌生人都是敌人。库特拉斯医生意识到孩子正躲在一棵树后面偷偷地看着他。房门敞开着。他叫了一声，但是没有人回答。他走了进去。他在另一扇门上敲了敲，仍然没有回答。他把门柄一扭便走进去。扑鼻而来的一股臭味几乎叫他呕吐出来。他用手帕堵着鼻子，硬逼着自己走进去。屋子里光线非常暗，从外面灿烂的阳光下走进来，一时他什么也看不见。当他的眼睛适应了室内的光线时，他吓了一大跳。他不知道自己走到什么地方来了，仿佛是，他突然走入了一个神奇的世界；矇矇眬眬中，他好象觉得自己正置身于一个原始大森林中，大树下面徜徉着一些赤身裸体的人。过了一会儿他才知道，他看到的是四壁上的巨大壁画。

“上帝啊①，我不是被太阳晒昏了吧，”他喃喃自语道。

①原文为法语。

一个人影晃动了一下，引起他的注意，他发现爱塔正躺在地板上，低声呜咽着。

“爱塔，”他喊道，“爱塔。”

她没有理睬他。屋子里的腥臭味又一次差点儿把他熏倒，他点了一支方头雪茄。他的眼睛已经完全适应屋里的朦胧光线了。他凝视着墙上的绘画，心中激荡着无法控制的感情。他对于绘画并不怎么内行，但是墙上的这些画却使他感到激动。四面墙上，从地板一直到天花板，展开一幅奇特的、精心绘制的巨画，非常奇妙，也非常神秘。库特拉斯医生几乎连呼吸都停止了。他心中出现了一种既无法理解、又不能分析的感情。如果能够这样比较的话，也许一个人看到开天辟地之初就是怀着这种欣喜而又畏服的感觉的。这幅画具有压人的气势，它既是肉欲的，又充满无限热情。与此同时它又含着某种令人恐惧的成分，叫人看着心惊肉跳。绘制这幅巨作的人已经深入到大自然的隐秘中，探索到某种既美丽、又可怕的秘密。这个人知道了一般人所不该知道的事物。他画出来的是某种原始的、令人震骇的东西，是不属于人世尘寰的。库特拉斯医生模模糊糊地联想到黑色魔法，既美得惊人，又污秽邪恶。

“上帝啊①，这是天才。”

①原文为法语。

这句话脱口而出，只是说出来以后他才意识到自己是在下了一个评语。

后来他的眼睛落在墙角的一张草席上，他走过去，看到了一个肢体残缺、让人不敢正眼看的可怕的东西，那是思特里克兰德。他已经死了。库特拉斯医生运用了极大的意志力，俯身看了看这具可怕的尸骸。他突然吓得跳起来，一颗心差点儿跳到嗓子眼儿上；因为他感到身后边有什么东西。回头一看，原来是爱塔。不知道什么时候，爱塔已经站起来，走到他胳臂肘旁边，同他一起俯视着地上的死人。

“老天爷，我的神经一定出了毛病了，”他说，“你可把我吓坏了。”

这个一度曾是活生生的人，现在已经气息全无了；库特拉斯又看了看，便心情沉郁地掉头走开。

“他的眼睛已经瞎了啊。”

“是的，他已经瞎了快一年了。”

"They are not going to take thee away?" she cried.

At that time there was no rigid sequestration on the islands, and lepers, if they chose, were allowed to go free.

"I shall go up into the mountain, " said Strickland.

Then Ata stood up and faced him.

"Let the others go if they choose, but I will not leave thee. Thou art my man and I am thy woman. If thou leavest me I shall hang myself on the tree that is behind the house. I swear it by God. "

There was something immensely forcible in the way she spoke. She was no longer the meek, soft native girl, but a determined woman. She was extraordinarily transformed.

"Why shouldst thou stay with me? Thou canst go back to Papeete, and thou wilt soon find another white man. The old woman can take care of thy children, and Tiare will be glad to have thee back. "

"Thou art my man and I am thy woman. Whither thou goest I will go, too. "

For a moment Strickland's fortitude was shaken, and a tear filled each of his eyes and trickled slowly down his cheeks. Then he gave the sardonic smile which was usual with him.

"Women are strange little beasts, " he said to Dr. Coutras. "You can treat them like dogs, you can beat them till your arm aches, and still they love you. " He shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, it is one of the most absurd illusions of Christianity that they have souls. "

"What is it that thou art saying to the doctor?" asked Ata suspiciously. "Thou wilt not go?"

"If it please thee I will stay, poor child. "

Ata flung herself on her knees before him, and clasped his legs with her arms and kissed them. Strickland looked at Dr. Coutras with a faint smile.

"In the end they get you, and you are helpless in their hands. White or brown, they are all the same. "

Dr. Coutras felt that it was absurd to offer expressions of regret in so terrible a disaster, and he took his leave. Strickland told Tane, the boy, to lead him to the village. Dr. Coutras paused for a moment, and then he addressed himself to me.

"I did not like him, I have told you he was not sympathetic to me, but as I walked slowly down to Taravao I could not prevent an unwilling admiration for the stoical courage which enabled him to bear perhaps the most dreadful of human afflictions. When Tane left me I told him I would send some medicine that might be of service; but my hope was small that Strickland would consent to take it, and even smaller that, if he did, it would do him good. I gave the boy a message for Ata that I would come whenever she sent for me. Life is hard, and Nature takes sometimes a terrible delight in torturing her children. It was with a heavy heart that I drove back to my comfortable home in Papeete. "

For a long time none of us spoke.

"But Ata did not send for me, " the doctor went on, at last, "and it chanced that I did not go to that part of the island for a long time. I had no news of Strickland. Once or twice I heard that Ata had been to Papeete to buy painting materials, but I did not happen to see her. More than two years passed before I went to Taravao again, and then it was once more to see the old chiefess. I asked them whether they had heard anything of Strickland. By now it was known everywhere that he had leprosy. First Tane, the boy, had left the house, and then, a little time afterwards, the old woman and her grandchild. Strickland and Ata were left alone with their babies. No one went near the plantation, for, as you know, the natives have a very lively horror of the disease, and in the old days when it was discovered the sufferer was killed; but sometimes, when the village boys were scrambling about the hills, they would catch sight of the white man, with his great red beard, wandering about. They fled in terror. Sometimes Ata would come down to the village at night and arouse the trader, so that he might sell her various things of which she stood in need. She knew that the natives looked upon her with the same horrified aversion as they looked upon Strickland, and she kept out of their way. Once some women, venturing nearer than usual to the plantation, saw her washing clothes in the brook, and they threw stones at her. After that the trader was told to give her the message that if she used the brook again men would come and burn down her house. "

"Brutes, " I said.

" Mais non, mon cher monsieur, men are always the same. Fear makes them cruel. . . . I decided to see Strickland, and when I had finished with the chiefess asked for a boy to show me the way. But none would accompany me, and I was forced to find it alone. "

When Dr. Coutras arrived at the plantation he was seized with a feeling of uneasiness. Though he was hot from walking, he shivered. There was something hostile in the air which made him hesitate, and he felt that invisible forces barred his way. Unseen hands seemed to draw him back. No one would go near now to gather the cocoa-nuts, and they lay rotting on the ground. Everywhere was desolation. The bush was encroaching, and it looked as though very soon the primeval forest would regain possession of that strip of land which had been snatched from it at the cost of so much labour. He had the sensation that here was the abode of pain. As he approached the house he was struck by the unearthly silence, and at first he thought it was deserted. Then he saw Ata. She was sitting on her haunches in the lean-to that served her as kitchen, watching some mess cooking in a pot. Near her a small boy was playing silently in the dirt. She did not smile when she saw him.

"I have come to see Strickland, " he said.

"I will go and tell him. "

She went to the house, ascended the few steps that led to the verandah, and entered. Dr. Coutras followed her, but waited outside in obedience to her gesture. As she opened the door he smelt the sickly sweet smell which makes the neighbourhood of the leper nauseous. He heard her speak, and then he heard Strickland's answer, but he did not recognise the voice. It had become hoarse and indistinct. Dr. Coutras raised his eyebrows. He judged that the disease had already attacked the vocal chords. Then Ata came out again.

"He will not see you. You must go away. "

Dr. Coutras insisted, but she would not let him pass. Dr. Coutras shrugged his shoulders, and after a moment's rejection turned away. She walked with him. He felt that she too wanted to be rid of him.

"Is there nothing I can do at all?" he asked.

"You can send him some paints, " she said. "There is nothing else he wants. "

"Can he paint still?"

"He is painting the walls of the house. "

"This is a terrible life for you, my poor child. "

Then at last she smiled, and there was in her eyes a look of superhuman love. Dr. Coutras was startled by it, and amazed. And he was awed. He found nothing to say.

"He is my man, " she said.

"Where is your other child?" he asked. "When I was here last you had two. "

"Yes; it died. We buried it under the mango. "

When Ata had gone with him a little way she said she must turn back. Dr. Coutras surmised she was afraid to go farther in case she met any of the people from the village. He told her again that if she wanted him she had only to send and he would come at once.

“他们不会把你弄走吧？”她哭着说。

当时在这些岛上还没有实行严格的隔离制度。害麻风病的人如果自己愿意，是可以留在家里的。

“我要到山里去。”思特里克兰德说。

这时候爱塔站起身，看着他的脸说：

“别人谁愿意走谁就走吧。我不离开你。你是我的男人，我是你的女人。要是你离开了我，我就在房子后面这棵树上上吊。我在上帝面前发誓。”

她说这番话时，神情非常坚决。她不再是一个温柔、驯顺的土人女孩子，而是一个意志坚定的妇人。她一下子变得谁也认不出来了。

“你为什么要同我在一起呢？你可以回到帕皮提去，而且很快地你还会找到另一个白人。这个老婆子可以给你看孩子，蒂阿瑞会很高兴地再让你重新给她干活儿的。”

“你是我的男人，我是你的女人。你到哪儿去我也到哪儿去。”

有那么一瞬间，思特里克兰德的铁石心肠似乎被打动了，泪水涌上他的眼睛，一边一滴，慢慢地从脸颊上流下来。但是他的脸马上又重新浮现出平日惯有的那种讥嘲的笑容。

“女人真是奇怪的动物，”他对库特拉斯医生说，“你可以象狗一样地对待她们，你可以揍她们揍得你两臂酸痛，可是到头来她们还是爱你。”他耸了耸肩膀。“当然了，基督教认为女人也有灵魂，这实在是个最荒谬的幻觉。”

“你在同医生说什么？”爱塔有些怀疑地问他，“你不走吧？”

“如果你愿意的话，我就不走，可怜的孩子。”

爱塔一下子跪在他的脚下，两臂抱紧他的双腿，拼命地吻他。思特里克兰德看着库特拉斯医生，脸上带着一丝微笑。

“最后他们还是要把你抓住，你怎么挣扎也白费力气。白种人也好，棕种人也好，到头来都是一样的。”

库特拉斯医生觉得对于这种可怕的疾病说一些同情的话是很荒唐的，他决定告辞。思特里克兰德叫那个名叫塔耐的男孩子给他领路，带他回村子去。说到这里，库特拉斯医生停了一会儿。最后他对我说：

“我不喜欢他，我已经告诉过你，我对他没有什么好感。但是在我慢慢走回塔拉窝村的路上，我对他那种自我克制的勇气却不由自主地产生了敬佩之情。他忍受的也许是一种最可怕的疾病。当塔耐和我分手的时候，我告诉他我会送一些药去，对他的疾病也许会有点儿好处。但是我也知道，思特里克兰德是多半不肯服我送去的药的，至于这种药——即使他服了——有多大效用，我就更不敢希望了。我让那孩子给爱塔带了个话，不管她什么时候需要我，我都会去的。生活是严酷的，大自然有时候竟以折磨自己的儿女为乐趣，在我坐上马车驶回我在帕皮提的温暖的家庭时，我的心是沉重的。”

很长一段时间，我们谁都没有说话。

“但是爱塔并没有叫我去，”医生最后继续说，“我凑巧也有很长时间没有机会到那个地区去。关于思特里克兰德我什么消息也没听到。有一两次我听说爱塔到帕皮提来买绘画用品，但是我都没有看见她。大约过了两年多，我才又去了一趟塔拉窝，仍然是给那个女酋长看病。我问那地方的人，他们听到过思特里克兰德的什么消息没有。这时候，思特里克兰德害了麻风病的事已经到处都传开了。首先是那个男孩子塔耐离开了他们住的地方，不久以后，老太婆带着她的孙女儿也走了。后来只剩下思特里克兰德、爱塔和他们的孩子了。没有人走近他们的椰子园。当地的土人对这种病怕得要命，这你是知道的；在过去的日子里，害麻风病的人一被发现就被活活儿打死。但是有时候村里的小孩到山上去玩，偶然会看到这个留着大红胡子的白人在附近游荡。孩子们一看见他就象吓掉了魂儿似地没命地跑掉。有时候爱塔半夜到村子里来，叫醒开杂货店的人买一些她需要的东西。她知道村子里的人对她也同样又害怕又厌恶，正象对待思特里克兰德一样，因此她总是避开他们。又有一次有几个女人奓着胆子走到他们住的椰子园附近，这次她们走得比哪次都近，看见爱塔正在小溪里洗衣服，她们向她投掷了一阵石块。这次事件发生以后，村里的杂货商就被通知给爱塔传递一个消息：以后如果她再用那条溪水，人们就要来把她的房子烧掉。”

“这些混帐东西。”我说。

“别这么说，我亲爱的先生①，人们都是这样的。恐惧使人们变得残酷无情……我决定去看看思特里克兰德。当我给女酋长看好病以后，我想找一个男孩子给我带路，但是没有一个人肯陪我去，最后还是我一个人摸索着去了。”

①原文为法语。

库特拉斯医生一走进那个椰子园，就有一种忐忑不安的感觉。虽然走路走得浑身燥热，却不由得打了个寒战。空气中似乎有什么敌视他的东西，叫他望而却步；他觉得有一种看不见的势力阻拦着他，许多只看不见的手往后拉他。没有人再到这里来采摘椰子，椰果全都腐烂在地上，到处是一片荒凉破败的景象。低矮的树丛从四面八方侵入这个种植园，看来人们花费了无数血汗开发出的这块土地不久就又要被原始森林重新夺回去了。库特拉斯医生有一种感觉，仿佛这是痛苦的居留地。他越走近这所房子，越感到这里寂静得令人心神不安。开始他还以为房子里没有人了呢，但是后来他看见了爱塔。她正蹲在一间当厨房用的小棚子里，用锅子煮东西，身旁有一个小男孩，一声不出地在泥土地上玩儿。爱塔看见医生的时候，脸上并没有笑容。

“我是来看思特里克兰德的。”他说。

“我去告诉他。”

爱塔向屋子走去，登上几层台阶，走上阳台，然后进了屋子。库特拉斯医生跟在她身后，但是走到门口的时候却听从她的手势在外边站住。爱塔打开房门以后，他闻到一股腥甜气味；在麻风病患者居住的地方总是有这种令人作呕的气味。他听见爱塔说了句什么，以后他听见思特里克兰德的语声，但是他却一点儿也听不出这是思特里克兰德的声音。这声音变得非常沙哑、模糊不清。库特拉斯医生扬了一下眉毛。他估计病菌已经侵袭了病人的声带了。过了一会儿，爱塔从屋子里走出来。

“他不愿意见你。你快走吧。”

库特拉斯医生一定要看看病人，但是爱塔拦住他，不叫他进去。库特拉斯医生耸了耸肩膀；他想了一会儿，便转身走去。她跟在他身边。医生觉得，她也希望自己马上离开。

“有没有什么事我可以替你做的？”他问。

“你可以给他送点儿油彩来，”她说。“别的什么他都不要。”

“他还能画画儿吗？”

“他正在往墙上画壁画儿。”

“你的生活真不容易啊，可怜的孩子。”

她的脸上终于露出了笑容，眼睛里放射出一种爱的光辉，一种人世上罕见的爱情的光辉。她的目光叫库特拉斯医生吓了一跳。他感到非常惊异，甚至产生了敬畏之感。他不知道自己该说什么。

“他是我的男人。”她说。

“你们的那个孩子呢？”医生问道，“我上次来，记得你们是有两个小孩儿的。”

“是有两个。那个已经死了。我们把他埋在芒果树底下了。”

爱塔陪着医生走了一小段路以后，就对医生说，她得回去了。库特拉斯医生猜测，她不敢往更远里走，怕遇见村子里的人。他又跟她说了一遍，如果她需要他，只要捎个话去，他一定会来的。

Mr. Coutras was an old Frenchman of great stature and exceeding bulk. His body was shaped like a huge duck's egg; and his eyes, sharp, blue, and good-natured, rested now and then with self-satisfaction on his enormous paunch. His complexion was florid and his hair white. He was a man to attract immediate sympathy. He received us in a room that might have been in a house in a provincial town in France, and the one or two Polynesian curios had an odd look. He took my hand in both of his -- they were huge -- and gave me a hearty look, in which, however, was great shrewdness. When he shook hands with Capitaine Brunot he enquired politely after Madame et les enfants. For some minutes there was an exchange of courtesies and some local gossip about the island, the prospects of copra and the vanilla crop; then we came to the object of my visit.

I shall not tell what Dr. Coutras related to me in his words, but in my own, for I cannot hope to give at second hand any impression of his vivacious delivery. He had a deep, resonant voice, fitted to his massive frame, and a keen sense of the dramatic. To listen to him was, as the phrase goes, as good as a play; and much better than most.

It appears that Dr. Coutras had gone one day to Taravao in order to see an old chiefess who was ill, and he gave a vivid picture of the obese old lady, lying in a huge bed, smoking cigarettes, and surrounded by a crowd of dark-skinned retainers. When he had seen her he was taken into another room and given dinner -- raw fish, fried bananas, and chicken -- que sais-je, the typical dinner of the indigene -- and while he was eating it he saw a young girl being driven away from the door in tears. He thought nothing of it, but when he went out to get into his trap and drive home, he saw her again, standing a little way off; she looked at him with a woebegone air, and tears streamed down her cheeks. He asked someone what was wrong with her, and was told that she had come down from the hills to ask him to visit a white man who was sick. They had told her that the doctor could not be disturbed. He called her, and himself asked what she wanted. She told him that Ata had sent her, she who used to be at the Hotel de la Fleur, and that the Red One was ill. She thrust into his hand a crumpled piece of newspaper, and when he opened it he found in it a hundred-franc note.

"Who is the Red One?" he asked of one of the bystanders.

He was told that that was what they called the Englishman, a painter, who lived with Ata up in the valley seven kilometres from where they were. He recognised Strickland by the description. But it was necessary to walk. It was impossible for him to go; that was why they had sent the girl away.

"I confess, " said the doctor, turning to me, "that I hesitated. I did not relish fourteen kilometres over a bad pathway, and there was no chance that I could get back to Papeete that night. Besides, Strickland was not sympathetic to me. He was an idle, useless scoundrel, who preferred to live with a native woman rather than work for his living like the rest of us. Mon Dieu, how was I to know that one day the world would come to the conclusion that he had genius? I asked the girl if he was not well enough to have come down to see me. I asked her what she thought was the matter with him. She would not answer. I pressed her, angrily perhaps, but she looked down on the ground and began to cry. Then I shrugged my shoulders; after all, perhaps it was my duty to go, and in a very bad temper I bade her lead the way. "

His temper was certainly no better when he arrived, perspiring freely and thirsty. Ata was on the look-out for him, and came a little way along the path to meet him.

"Before I see anyone give me something to drink or I shall die of thirst, " he cried out. " Pour l'amour de Dieu, get me a cocoa-nut. "

She called out, and a boy came running along. He swarmed up a tree, and presently threw down a ripe nut. Ata pierced a hole in it, and the doctor took a long, refreshing draught. Then he rolled himself a cigarette and felt in a better humour.

"Now, where is the Red One?" he asked.

"He is in the house, painting. I have not told him you were coming. Go in and see him. "

"But what does he complain of? If he is well enough to paint, he is well enough to have come down to Taravao and save me this confounded walk. I presume my time is no less valuable than his. "

Ata did not speak, but with the boy followed him to the house. The girl who had brought him was by this time sitting on the verandah, and here was lying an old woman, with her back to the wall, making native cigarettes. Ata pointed to the door. The doctor, wondering irritably why they behaved so strangely, entered, and there found Strickland cleaning his palette. There was a picture on the easel. Strickland, clad only in a pareo, was standing with his back to the door, but he turned round when he heard the sound of boots. He gave the doctor a look of vexation. He was surprised to see him, and resented the intrusion. But the doctor gave a gasp, he was rooted to the floor, and he stared with all his eyes. This was not what he expected. He was seized with horror.

"You enter without ceremony, " said Strickland. "What can I do for you?"

The doctor recovered himself, but it required quite an effort for him to find his voice. All his irritation was gone, and he felt -- eh bien, oui, je ne le nie pas -- he felt an overwhelming pity.

"I am Dr. Coutras. I was down at Taravao to see the chiefess, and Ata sent for me to see you. "

"She's a damned fool. I have had a few aches and pains lately and a little fever, but that's nothing; it will pass off. Next time anyone went to Papeete I was going to send for some quinine. "

"Look at yourself in the glass. "

Strickland gave him a glance, smiled, and went over to a cheap mirror in a little wooden frame, that hung on the wall.

"Well?"

"Do you not see a strange change in your face? Do you not see the thickening of your features and a look -- how shall I describe it? -- the books call it lion-faced. Mon pauvre ami, must I tell you that you have a terrible disease?"

"I?"

"When you look at yourself in the glass you see the typical appearance of the leper. "

"You are jesting, " said Strickland.

"I wish to God I were. "

"Do you intend to tell me that I have leprosy?"

"Unfortunately, there can be no doubt of it. "

Dr. Coutras had delivered sentence of death on many men, and he could never overcome the horror with which it filled him. He felt always the furious hatred that must seize a man condemned when he compared himself with the doctor, sane and healthy, who had the inestimable privilege of life. Strickland looked at him in silence. Nothing of emotion could be seen on his face, disfigured already by the loathsome disease.

"Do they know?" he asked at last, pointing to the persons on the verandah, now sitting in unusual, unaccountable silence.

"These natives know the signs so well, " said the doctor. "They were afraid to tell you. "

Strickland stepped to the door and looked out. There must have been something terrible in his face, for suddenly they all burst out into loud cries and lamentation. They lifted up their voices and they wept. Strickland did not speak. After looking at them for a moment, he came back into the room.

"How long do you think I can last?"

"Who knows? Sometimes the disease continues for twenty years. It is a mercy when it runs its course quickly. "

Strickland went to his easel and looked reflectively at the picture that stood on it.

"You have had a long journey. It is fitting that the bearer of important tidings should be rewarded. Take this picture. It means nothing to you now, but it may be that one day you will be glad to have it. "

Dr. Coutras protested that he needed no payment for his journey; he had already given back to Ata the hundred-franc note, but Strickland insisted that he should take the picture. Then together they went out on the verandah. The natives were sobbing violently. "Be quiet, woman. Dry thy tears, " said Strickland, addressing Ata. "There is no great harm. I shall leave thee very soon. "

库特拉斯医生是一个又高又胖的法国人，已经有了一把年纪。他的体型好象一只大鸭蛋，一对蓝眼睛的的逼人，却又充满了善意，时不时地带着志满意得的神情落在自己鼓起的大肚皮上。他的脸色红扑扑的，配着一头白发，让人一看见就发生好感。他接见我们的地方很象在法国小城市里的一所住宅，两件波利尼西亚的摆设在屋子里显得非常刺眼。库特拉斯医生用两只手握住我的手——他的手很大——，亲切地看着我；但是从他的眼神我却可以看出他是个非常精明的人。在他同布吕诺船长握手的时候，他很客气地问候夫人和孩子①。我们寒暄了几句。又闲扯了一会儿本地的各种新闻，今年椰子和香草果的收成等等。这以后谈话转到我这次来访的本题。

①原文为法语。

我现在只能用自己的语言把库特拉斯给我讲的故事写下来；他当时给我叙述时，绘声绘色，他的原话经我一转述就要大为减色，他的嗓音低沉，带着回音，同他魁梧的体格非常相配。他说话时很善于表演。听他讲话，正象一般人爱用的一个譬喻，就象在观看戏剧，而且比大多数戏演得更为精彩。

事情的经过大概是这样的。有一次库特拉斯医生到塔拉窝去给一个生病的女酋长看病。库特拉斯把这位女酋长淋漓尽致地描写了一番。女酋长生得又胖又蠢，躺在一张大床上抽着纸烟，周围站着一圈乌黑皮肤的侍从。看过病以后，医生被请到另一间屋子里，被招待了一顿丰盛的饭食——生鱼、炸香蕉、小鸡，还有一些他不知名的东西①，这是当地土著②的标准饭菜。吃饭的时候，他看见人们正在把一个眼泪汪汪的年轻女孩子从门口赶走。他当时并没有注意，但在他吃完饭，正准备上马车启程回家的时候，他又看见她在不远的地方站着。她凄凄惨惨地望着他，泪珠从面颊上淌下来。医生问了问旁边的人，这个女孩儿是怎么回事。他被告知说，女孩子是从山里面下来的，想请他去看一个生病的白人。他们已经告诉她，医生没有时间管她的事。库特拉斯医生把她叫过来，亲自问了一遍她有什么事。她说她是爱塔派来的，爱塔过去在鲜花旅馆干活儿，她来找医生是因为“红毛”病了。她把一块揉皱了的旧报纸递到医生手里，医生打开一看，里面是一张一百法郎的钞票。

①②原文为法语。

“谁是‘红毛’？”医生问一个站在旁边的人。

他被告诉说，“红毛”是当地人给那个英国人，一个画家起的外号儿。这个人现在同爱塔同居，住在离这里七公里远的山丛中的一条峡谷里。根据当地人的描述，他知道他们说的是思特里克兰德。但是要去思特里克兰德住的地方，只能走路去；他们知道他去不了，所以就把女孩子打发走了。

“说老实话，”医生转过头来对我说， “我当时有些踌躇。在崎岖不平的小路上来回走十四公里路，那滋味着实不好受，而且我也没法当夜再赶回帕皮提了。此外，我对思特里克兰德也没有什么好感。他只不过是个游手好闲的懒汉，宁愿跟一个土著女人姘居，也不想象别人似地自己挣钱吃饭。我的上帝①，我当时怎么知道，有一天全世界都承认他是个伟大天才呢？我问了问那个女孩子，他是不是病得很厉害，不能到我那儿去看病。我还问她，思特里克兰德得的是什么病。但是她什么也不说。我又叮问了她几句，也许还对她发了火，结果她眼睛看着地，扑簌簌地掉起眼泪来。我无可奈何地耸了耸肩膀。不管怎么说，给病人看病是医生的职责，尽管我一肚子闷气，还是跟着她去了。”

①原文为法语。

库特拉斯医生走到目的地的时候，脾气一点儿也不比出发的时候好，他走得满身大汗，又渴又累。爱塔正在焦急地等着，还走了一段路来接他。

“在我给任何人看病以前，先让我喝点儿什么，不然我就渴死了，”医生喊道，“看在上帝份儿上②，给我摘个椰子来。”

②原文为法语。

爱塔喊了一声，一个男孩子跑了过来，噌噌几下就爬上一棵椰子树，扔下一只成熟的椰子来。爱塔在椰子上开了一个洞，医生痛痛快快地喝了一气，这以后，他给自己卷了一很纸烟，情绪比刚才好多了。

“红毛在什么地方啊？”他问道。

“他在屋子里画画儿呢。我没有告诉他你要来。你进去看看他吧。”

“他有什么不舒服？要是他还画得了画儿，就能到塔拉窝走一趟。叫我走这么该死的远路来看他，是不是我的时间不如他的值钱？”

爱塔没有说话，她同那个男孩子一起跟着走进屋子。把医生找来的那个女孩儿这时在阳台上坐下来；阳台上还躺着一个老太婆，背对着墙，正在卷当地人吸的一种纸烟。医生感到这些人的举止都有些奇怪，心里有些气恼。走进屋子以后，他发现思特里克兰德正在清洗自己的调色板。画架上摆着一幅画。思特里克兰德扎着一件帕利欧，站在画架后面，背对着门。听到有脚步声，他转过身来。他很不高兴地看了医生一眼。他有些吃惊；他讨厌有人来打搅他。但是真正感到吃惊的是医生；库特拉斯一下子僵立在那里，脚下好象生了根，眼睛瞪得滚圆。他看到的是他事前绝没有料到的。他吓得胆战心惊。

“你怎么连门也不敲就进来了，”思特里克兰德说，“有什么事儿？”

医生虽然从震惊中恢复过来，但还是费了很大劲儿才能开口说话。他来时的一肚子怒气已经烟消云散；他感到——哦，对，我不能否认。①——他感到从心坎里涌现出一阵无限的怜悯之情。

①原文为法语。

“我是库特拉斯医生。我刚才到塔拉窝去给女酋长看病，爱塔派人请我来给你看看。”

“她是个大傻瓜。最近我身上有的地方有些痛，有时候有点儿发烧，但这不是什么大病。过些天自然就好了。下回有人再去帕皮提，我会叫他带些金鸡纳霜回来的。”

“你还是照照镜子吧。”

思特里克兰德看了他一眼，笑了笑，走到挂在墙上的一面小镜子前头。这是那种价钱很便宜的镜子，镶在一个小木框里。

“怎么了？”

“你没有发现你的脸有什么变化吗？你没有发现你的五官都肥大起来，你的脸——我该怎么说呢？——你的脸已经成了医书上所说的‘狮子脸’了。我可怜的朋友①，难道一定要我给你指出来，你得了一种可怕的病了吗？”

①原文为法语。

“我？”

“你从镜子里就可以看出来，你的脸相都是麻风病的典型特征。”

“你是在开玩笑么？”思特里克兰德说。

“我也希望是在开玩笑。”

“你是想告诉我，我害了麻风病么？”

“非常不幸，这已经是不容置疑的事了。”

库特拉斯医生曾经对许多人宣判过死刑，但是每一次都无法克服自己内心的恐怖感。他总是想，被宣判死刑的病人一定拿自己同医生比较，看到医生身心健康、享有生活的宝贵权利，一定又气又恨；病人的这种感情每次他都能感觉到。但是思特里克兰德却只是默默无言地看着他，一张已经受这种恶病蹂躏变形的脸丝毫也看不出有任何感情变化。

“他们知道吗？”最后，思特里克兰德指着外面的人说；这些人这时静悄悄地坐在露台上，同往日的情景大不相同。

“这些本地人对这种病的征象是非常清楚的，”医生说，“只是他们不敢告诉你罢了。”

思特里克兰德走到门口，向外面张望了一下。他的脸相一定非常可怕，因为外面的人一下子都哭叫、哀号起来，而且哭声越来越大。思特里克兰德一句话也没说。他愣愣地看了他们一会儿，便转身走回屋子。

“你认为我还能活多久？”

“谁说得准？有时候染上这种病的人能活二十年，如果早一些死倒是上帝发慈悲呢。”

思特里克兰德走到画架前面，沉思地看着放在上面的画。

“你到这里来走了很长一段路。带来重要消息的人理应得到报酬。把这幅画拿去吧。现在它对你不算什么，但是将来有一天可能你会高兴有这样一幅画的。”

库特拉斯医生谢绝说，他到这儿来不需要报酬，就是那一百法郎他也还给了爱塔。但是思特里克兰德却坚持要他把这幅画拿走。这以后他们俩一起走到外面阳台上。几个本地人仍然在非常哀痛地呜咽着。

“别哭了，女人。把眼泪擦干吧，”思特里克兰德对爱塔说。“没有什么大了不起的。我不久就要离开你了。”

As we walked along I reflected on a circumstance which all that I had lately heard about Strickland forced on my attention. Here, on this remote island, he seemed to have aroused none of the detestation with which he was regarded at home, but compassion rather; and his vagaries were accepted with tolerance. To these people, native and European, he was a queer fish, but they were used to queer fish, and they took him for granted; the world was full of odd persons, who did odd things; and perhaps they knew that a man is not what he wants to be, but what he must be. In England and France he was the square peg in the round hole, but here the holes were any sort of shape, and no sort of peg was quite amiss. I do not think he was any gentler here, less selfish or less brutal, but the circumstances were more favourable. If he had spent his life amid these surroundings he might have passed for no worse a man than another. He received here what he neither expected nor wanted among his own people -- sympathy.

I tried to tell Captain Brunot something of the astonishment with which this filled me, and for a little while he did not answer.

"It is not strange that I, at all events, should have had sympathy for him, " he said at last, "for, though perhaps neither of us knew it, we were both aiming at the same thing. "

"What on earth can it be that two people so dissimilar as you and Strickland could aim at?" I asked, smiling.

"Beauty. "

"A large order, " I murmured.

"Do you know how men can be so obsessed by love that they are deaf and blind to everything else in the world? They are as little their own masters as the slaves chained to the benches of a galley. The passion that held Strickland in bondage was no less tyrannical than love. "

"How strange that you should say that!" I answered. "For long ago I had the idea that he was possessed of a devil. "

"And the passion that held Strickland was a passion to create beauty. It gave him no peace. It urged him hither and thither. He was eternally a pilgrim, haunted by a divine nostalgia, and the demon within him was ruthless. There are men whose desire for truth is so great that to attain it they will shatter the very foundation of their world. Of such was Strickland, only beauty with him took the place of truth. I could only feel for him a profound compassion. "

"That is strange also. A man whom he had deeply wronged told me that he felt a great pity for him. " I was silent for a moment. "I wonder if there you have found the explanation of a character which has always seemed to me inexplicable. How did you hit on it?"

He turned to me with a smile.

"Did I not tell you that I, too, in my way was an artist? I realised in myself the same desire as animated him. But whereas his medium was paint, mine has been life. "

Then Captain Brunot told me a story which I must repeat, since, if only by way of contrast, it adds something to my impression of Strickland. It has also to my mind a beauty of its own.

Captain Brunot was a Breton, and had been in the French Navy. He left it on his marriage, and settled down on a small property he had near Quimper to live for the rest of his days in peace; but the failure of an attorney left him suddenly penniless, and neither he nor his wife was willing to live in penury where they had enjoyed consideration. During his sea faring days he had cruised the South Seas, and he determined now to seek his fortune there. He spent some months in Papeete to make his plans and gain experience; then, on money borrowed from a friend in France, he bought an island in the Paumotus. It was a ring of land round a deep lagoon, uninhabited, and covered only with scrub and wild guava. With the intrepid woman who was his wife, and a few natives, he landed there, and set about building a house, and clearing the scrub so that he could plant cocoa-nuts. That was twenty years before, and now what had been a barren island was a garden.

"It was hard and anxious work at first, and we worked strenuously, both of us. Every day I was up at dawn, clearing, planting, working on my house, and at night when I threw myself on my bed it was to sleep like a log till morning. My wife worked as hard as I did. Then children were born to us, first a son and then a daughter. My wife and I have taught them all they know. We had a piano sent out from France, and she has taught them to play and to speak English, and I have taught them Latin and mathematics, and we read history together. They can sail a boat. They can swim as well as the natives. There is nothing about the land of which they are ignorant. Our trees have prospered, and there is shell on my reef. I have come to Tahiti now to buy a schooner. I can get enough shell to make it worth while to fish for it, and, who knows? I may find pearls. I have made something where there was nothing. I too have made beauty. Ah, you do not know what it is to look at those tall, healthy trees and think that every one I planted myself. "

"Let me ask you the question that you asked Strickland. Do you never regret France and your old home in Brittany?"

"Some day, when my daughter is married and my son has a wife and is able to take my place on the island, we shall go back and finish our days in the old house in which I was born. "

"You will look back on a happy life, " I said.

" Evidemment, it is not exciting on my island, and we are very far from the world -- imagine, it takes me four days to come to Tahiti -- but we are happy there. It is given to few men to attempt a work and to achieve it. Our life is simple and innocent. We are untouched by ambition, and what pride we have is due only to our contemplation of the work of our hands. Malice cannot touch us, nor envy attack. Ah, mon cher monsieur, they talk of the blessedness of labour, and it is a meaningless phrase, but to me it has the most intense significance. I am a happy man. "

"I am sure you deserve to be, " I smiled.

"I wish I could think so. I do not know how I have deserved to have a wife who was the perfect friend and helpmate, the perfect mistress and the perfect mother. "

I reflected for a while on the life that the Captain suggested to my imagination.

"It is obvious that to lead such an existence and make so great a success of it, you must both have needed a strong will and a determined character. "

"Perhaps; but without one other factor we could have achieved nothing. "

"And what was that?"

He stopped, somewhat dramatically, and stretched out his arm.

"Belief in God. Without that we should have been lost. "

Then we arrived at the house of Dr. Coutras.

我一面走路一面思索着他到这里以后的景况。最近一些日子我听到思特里克兰德不少轶事，不能不认真思考一下这里的环境。他在这个遥远的海岛上似乎同在欧洲不一样，一点儿也没有引起别人的厌嫌；相反地，人们对他都很同情，他的奇行怪癖也没有人感到诧异。在这里的人们——不论是欧洲人或当地土著——眼里，他当然是个怪人，但是这里的人对于所谓怪人已经习以为常，因此对他从不另眼相看。世界上有的是怪人，他们的举止离奇古怪；也许这里的居民更能理解，一般人都不是他们想要做的那种人，而是他们不得不做的那种人。在英国或法国，思特里克兰德可以说是个不合时宜的人，“圆孔里插了个方塞子”，而在这里却有各种形式的孔，什么样子的塞子都能各得其所。我并不认为他到这里以后脾气比过去变好了，不那么自私了，或者更富于人情味儿了；而是这里的环境对他比以前适合了。假如他过去就在这里生活，人们就不会注意到他的那些劣点了。他在这里所经历到的是他在本乡本土不敢希冀、从未要求的——他在这里得到的是同情。

这一切我感到非常惊奇；我把我的想法试着同布吕诺船长谈了一些。他并没有立刻回答我什么。

“我对他感到同情其实也没有什么奇怪的，”最后他说，“因为，尽管我们两人可能谁也不知道，我们寻求的却是同一件东西。”

“你同思特里克兰德完全是不同类型的人，有什么东西会是你们俩共同寻求的呢？”

“美。”

“你们寻求的东西太高了，”我咕噜了一句。

“你知道不知道，一个人要是坠入情网，就可能对世界上一切事物都听而不闻、视而不见了？那时候他就会象古代锁在木船里摇桨的奴隶一样，身心都不是自己所有了。把思特里克兰德俘获住的热情正同爱情一样，一点自由也不给他。”

“真奇怪，你怎么会也这么说？”我回答道。“很久以前，我正是也有这种想法。我觉得他这个人是被魔鬼抓住了。”

“使思特里克兰德着了迷的是一种创作欲，他热切地想创造出美来。这种激情叫他一刻也不能宁静。逼着他东奔西走。他好象是一个终生跋涉的朝香者，永远思慕着一块圣地。盘踞在他心头的魔鬼对他毫无怜悯之情。世上有些人渴望寻获真理，他们的要求非常强烈，为了达到这个目的，就是叫他们把生活的基础完全打翻，也在所不惜。思特里克兰德就是这样一个人；只不过他追求的是美，而不是真理。对于象他这样的人，我从心眼里感到怜悯。”

“你说的这一点也很奇怪。有一个他曾经伤害过的人也这样对我说，说他非常可怜思特里克兰德。”我沉默了一会儿。“我很想知道，对于一种我一直感到迷惑不解的性格，你是不是已经找到了答案。你怎么会想到这个道理的？”

他对我笑了笑。

“我不是告诉你了，从某一个角度讲，我也是个艺术家吗？我在自己身上也深深感到激励着他的那种热望。但是他的手段是绘画，我的却是生活。”

布吕诺船长这时给我讲了一个故事，我想我应该在这里说一说。因为即使作为对比，这个故事对我记叙思特里克兰德的生平也能说明一些问题。再说，我认为这个故事本身就是非常美的。

布吕诺船长是法国布列塔尼地方的人，年轻时在法国海军里服过役。结婚以后，他退了役，在坎佩尔附近一小份产业上定居下来，准备在恬静的乡居生活中过自己的后半生。但是由于替他料理财务的一位代理人出了差错，一夜之间，他发现自己已经一文不名了。他和他的妻子在当地人们眼目中本来享有一定的地位，他俩绝对不愿意仍然捱在原来的地方过苦日子。早年他在远涉重洋时，曾经到过南太平洋群岛；这时他就打定主意再到南海去闯一条路子。他先在帕皮提住了几个月，一方面规划一下自己的未来，一方面积累一些经验。几个月以后，他从法国一位朋友手里借了一笔钱，在包莫图斯群岛里买下一个很小的岛屿。这是一个环形小岛，中间围着一个咸水湖；岛上长满了灌木和野生的香石榴，从来没有人居住过。他的老婆是个很勇敢的女人，他就带着自己的老婆和几个土人登上这个小岛。他们首先着手盖房子，清理灌木丛，准备种植椰子。这是在我遇到他二十年以前的事，现在这个荒岛已经成了一座整饬的种植园了。

“开始一段日子工作非常艰苦。我们两个人拚死拚活地干活儿。每天天一亮我就起来，除草、种树、盖房子，晚上一倒在床上，我总是象条死狗似地一觉睡到天亮。我的妻子同我一样毫不吝惜自己的力气。后来我们有了孩子，先是一个男孩儿，后来又生了个女儿。我和我的妻子教他们读书。他们知道的一点儿知识都是我俩教的。我们托人从国内运来一架钢琴。我妻子教他们弹琴、说英语，我教他们拉丁文和数学；我们一起读历史。两个孩子还学会了驾船，游泳的本领也一点儿不比土人差。岛上的事儿他们样样都很精通。我们的椰子林长得很好，此外，我们那里的珊瑚礁上还盛产珠蚌。我这次到塔希提来是为了买一艘双桅帆船。我想用这艘船打捞蚌壳，准能把买船的钱赚回来。谁能说准，我也许真会捞获一些珍珠呢。我干的每一件事都是白手起家的。我也创造了美。在我瞧着那些高大、挺拔的椰子树，心里想到每一棵都是自己亲手培植出米的，你真不知道我那时是什么心情啊。”

“让我问你一个问题：这个问题你过去也问过思特里克兰德。你离开了法国，把布列塔尼的老家抛在脑后，从来也没有后悔过吗？”

“将来有一天，等我女儿结了婚，我儿子娶了妻子，能够把我在岛上的一番事业接过去以后，我就和我妻子回去，在我出生的那所老房子里度过我们的残年。”

“你那时回顾过去，会感到这一辈子是过得很幸福的。”

“当然了①，在我们那个小岛上，日子可以说比较平淡，我们离开文明社会非常遥远——你可以想象一下，就是到塔希提来一趟，在路上也要走四天，但是我们过得很幸福。世界上只有少数人能够最终达到自己的理想。我们的生活很单纯、很简朴。我们并不野心勃勃，如果说我们也有骄傲的话，那是因为在想到通过双手获得的劳动成果时的骄傲。我们对别人既不嫉妒，更不怀恨。唉，我亲爱的先生②，有人认为劳动的幸福是句空话，对我说来可不是这样。我深深感到这句话的重要意义。我是个很幸福的人。”

①原文为法语。

②原文为法语。

“我相信你是有资格这样说的。”

“我也希望我能这样想。我的妻子不只是我贴心的朋友，还是我的好助手；不只是贤妻，还是良母，我真是配不上她。”

船长的这番话在我的脑子里描绘了别样一种生活，使我思索了好大一会儿。

“你过着这样的生活，而且取得很大成功，显然这不只需要坚强的意志，而且要有坚毅的性格。”我说。

“也许你说得对。但是如果没有另外一个因素，我们是什么也做不成的。”

“那是什么呢？”

他站住了，有些象演戏似地抬起了两只胳臂。

“对上帝的信仰。要是不相信上帝我们早就迷途了。”

话说到这里，我们已经走到库特拉斯医生的门口。

Tenez, voila le Capitaine Brunot, " said Tiare, one day when I was fitting together what she could tell me of Strickland. "He knew Strickland well; he visited him at his house. "

I saw a middle-aged Frenchman with a big black beard, streaked with gray, a sunburned face, and large, shining eyes. He was dressed in a neat suit of ducks. I had noticed him at luncheon, and Ah Lin, the Chinese boy, told me he had come from the Paumotus on the boat that had that day arrived. Tiare introduced me to him, and he handed me his card, a large card on which was printed Rene Brunot, and underneath, Capitaine au Long Cours. We were sitting on a little verandah outside the kitchen, and Tiare was cutting out a dress that she was making for one of the girls about the house. He sat down with us.

"Yes; I knew Strickland well, " he said. "I am very fond of chess, and he was always glad of a game. I come to Tahiti three or four times a year for my business, and when he was at Papeete he would come here and we would play. When he married" -- Captain Brunot smiled and shrugged his shoulders -- " enfin, when he went to live with the girl that Tiare gave him, he asked me to go and see him. I was one of the guests at the wedding feast. " He looked at Tiare, and they both laughed. "He did not come much to Papeete after that, and about a year later it chanced that I had to go to that part of the island for I forgot what business, and when I had finished it I said to myself: ` Voyons, why should I not go and see that poor Strickland?' I asked one or two natives if they knew anything about him, and I discovered that he lived not more than five kilometres from where I was. So I went. I shall never forget the impression my visit made on me. I live on an atoll, a low island, it is a strip of land surrounding a lagoon, and its beauty is the beauty of the sea and sky and the varied colour of the lagoon and the grace of the cocoa-nut trees; but the place where Strickland lived had the beauty of the Garden of Eden. Ah, I wish I could make you see the enchantment of that spot, a corner hidden away from all the world, with the blue sky overhead and the rich, luxuriant trees. It was a feast of colour. And it was fragrant and cool. Words cannot describe that paradise. And here he lived, unmindful of the world and by the world forgotten. I suppose to European eyes it would have seemed astonishingly sordid. The house was dilapidated and none too clean. Three or four natives were lying on the verandah. You know how natives love to herd together. There was a young man lying full length, smoking a cigarette, and he wore nothing but a pareo"

The pareo is a long strip of trade cotton, red or blue, stamped with a white pattern. It is worn round the waist and hangs to the knees.

"A girl of fifteen, perhaps, was plaiting pandanus-leaf to make a hat, and an old woman was sitting on her haunches smoking a pipe. Then I saw Ata. She was suckling a new-born child, and another child, stark naked, was playing at her feet. When she saw me she called out to Strickland, and he came to the door. He, too, wore nothing but a pareo. He was an extraordinary figure, with his red beard and matted hair, and his great hairy chest. His feet were horny and scarred, so that I knew he went always bare foot. He had gone native with a vengeance. He seemed pleased to see me, and told Ata to kill a chicken for our dinner. He took me into the house to show me the picture he was at work on when I came in. In one corner of the room was the bed, and in the middle was an easel with the canvas upon it. Because I was sorry for him, I had bought a couple of his pictures for small sums, and I had sent others to friends of mine in France. And though I had bought them out of compassion, after living with them I began to like them. Indeed, I found a strange beauty in them. Everyone thought I was mad, but it turns out that I was right. I was his first admirer in the islands. "

He smiled maliciously at Tiare, and with lamentations she told us again the story of how at the sale of Strickland's effects she had neglected the pictures, but bought an American stove for twenty-seven francs.

"Have you the pictures still?" I asked.

"Yes; I am keeping them till my daughter is of marriageable age, and then I shall sell them. They will be her dot. " Then he went on with the account of his visit to Strickland.

"I shall never forget the evening I spent with him. I had not intended to stay more than an hour, but he insisted that I should spend the night. I hesitated, for I confess I did not much like the look of the mats on which he proposed that I should sleep; but I shrugged my shoulders. When I was building my house in the Paumotus I had slept out for weeks on a harder bed than that, with nothing to shelter me but wild shrubs; and as for vermin, my tough skin should be proof against their malice.

"We went down to the stream to bathe while Ata was preparing the dinner, and after we had eaten it we sat on the verandah. We smoked and chatted. The young man had a concertina, and he played the tunes popular on the music-halls a dozen years before. They sounded strangely in the tropical night thousands of miles from civilisation. I asked Strickland if it did not irk him to live in that promiscuity. No, he said; he liked to have his models under his hand. Presently, after loud yawning, the natives went away to sleep, and Strickland and I were left alone. I cannot describe to you the intense silence of the night. On my island in the Paumotus there is never at night the complete stillness that there was here. There is the rustle of the myriad animals on the beach, all the little shelled things that crawl about ceaselessly, and there is the noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and then in the lagoon you hear the leaping of a fish, and sometimes a hurried noisy splashing as a brown shark sends all the other fish scampering for their lives. And above all, ceaseless like time, is the dull roar of the breakers on the reef. But here there was not a sound, and the air was scented with the white flowers of the night. It was a night so beautiful that your soul seemed hardly able to bear the prison of the body. You felt that it was ready to be wafted away on the immaterial air, and death bore all the aspect of a beloved friend. "

Tiare sighed.

"Ah, I wish I were fifteen again. "

Then she caught sight of a cat trying to get at a dish of prawns on the kitchen table, and with a dexterous gesture and a lively volley of abuse flung a book at its scampering tail.

"I asked him if he was happy with Ata.

"`She leaves me alone, ' he said. 'She cooks my food and looks after her babies. She does what I tell her. She gives me what I want from a woman. '

"`And do you never regret Europe? Do you not yearn sometimes for the light of the streets in Paris or London, the companionship of your friends, and equals, que sais-je? for theatres and newspapers, and the rumble of omnibuses on the cobbled pavements?'

"For a long time he was silent. Then he said:

"`I shall stay here till I die. '

"`But are you never bored or lonely?' I asked.

"He chuckled.

"` Mon pauvre ami, ' he said. `It is evident that you do not know what it is to be an artist. '"

Capitaine Brunot turned to me with a gentle smile, and there was a wonderful look in his dark, kind eyes.

"He did me an injustice, for I too know what it is to have dreams. I have my visions too. In my way I also am an artist. "

We were all silent for a while, and Tiare fished out of her capacious pocket a handful of cigarettes. She handed one to each of us, and we all three smoked. At last she said:

"Since ce monsieur is interested in Strickland, why do you not take him to see Dr. Coutras? He can tell him something about his illness and death. "

" Volontiers, " said the Captain, looking at me.

I thanked him, and he looked at his watch.

"It is past six o'clock. We should find him at home if you care to come now. "

I got up without further ado, and we walked along the road that led to the doctor's house. He lived out of the town, but the Hotel de la Fleur was on the edge of it, and we were quickly in the country. The broad road was shaded by pepper-trees, and on each side were the plantations, cocoa-nut and vanilla. The pirate birds were screeching among the leaves of the palms. We came to a stone bridge over a shallow river, and we stopped for a few minutes to see the native boys bathing. They chased one another with shrill cries and laughter, and their bodies, brown and wet, gleamed in the sunlight.

“看啊，那就是布吕诺船长①，”有一天，我脑子里正在往一块拼缀蒂阿瑞给我讲的关于思特里克兰德的片片断断的故事时，她忽然喊叫起来。“这个人同思特里克兰德很熟。他到思特里克兰德住的地方去过。”

①原文为法语。

我看到的是一个已过中年的法国人，蓄着一大捧黑胡子，不少已经花白，一张晒得黝黑的面孔，一对闪闪发光的大眼睛。他身上穿着一套很整洁的帆布衣服。其实吃午饭的时候我已经注意到他了，旅馆的一个中国籍侍者阿林告诉我，他是从包莫图斯岛来的，他乘的船当天刚刚靠岸。蒂阿瑞把我引见给他；他递给我一张名片。名片很大，当中印着他的姓名——勒内·布吕诺，下面一行小字是“龙谷号船长”。我同蒂阿瑞当时正坐在厨房外面的一个小凉台上，蒂阿瑞在给她手下的一个女孩子裁衣服。布吕诺船长就和我们一起坐下了。

“是的，我同思特里克兰德很熟，”他说。“我喜欢下棋，他也是只要找到个棋友就同人下。我每年为了生意上的事要到塔希提来三四回，如果他凑巧也在帕皮提，总要找我来一起玩几盘。后来，他结婚了，”——说到结婚两个字布吕诺船长笑了笑，耸了一下肩膀——“在同蒂阿瑞介绍给他的那个女孩子到乡下去住以前，他邀请我有机会去看看他。举行婚礼那天我也是贺客之一。”他看了蒂阿瑞一眼，两个人都笑了。“结婚以后，他就很少到帕皮提来了。大约一年以后，凑巧我到他居住的那一带去，我忘了是为办一件什么事了。事情办完以后，我对自己说：‘嗳，我干嘛不去看看可怜的思特里克兰德呀？’我向一两个本地的人打听，问他们知道不知道有这么一个人，结果我发现他住的地方离我那儿还不到五公里远。于是我就去了。我这次去的印象永远也不会忘记。我的住家是在珊瑚岛上，是环抱着咸水湖的一个低矮的环形小岛。那地方的美是海天茫茫的美。是湖水变幻不定的色彩和椰子树的摇曳多姿。而思特里克兰德住的地方却是另一种美，好象是生活在伊甸园里。哎呀，我真希望我能把那迷惑人的地方描摹给你们听。与人寰隔绝的一个幽僻的角落，头顶上是蔚蓝的天空，四围一片郁郁苍苍的树木。那里是观赏不尽的色彩，芬芳馥郁的香气，荫翳凉爽的空气。这个人世乐园是无法用言语形容的。他就住在那里，不关心世界上的事，世界也把他完全遗忘。我想，在欧洲人的眼睛里，那地方也许显得太肮脏了一些；房子破破烂烂，而且收拾得一点儿也不干净。我刚走近那幢房子，就看见凉台上躺着三四个当地人。你知道这里的人总爱凑在一起。我看见一个年轻人摊开了身体在地上躺着，抽着纸烟，身上除了一条帕利欧以外任什么也没有穿。”

所谓帕利欧就是一长条印着白色图案的红色或蓝色的棉布，围在腰上，下面搭在膝盖上。

“一个女孩子，大概有十五六岁吧，正在用凤梨树叶编草帽，一个老太婆蹲在地上抽烟袋。后来我才看到爱塔，她正在给一个刚出世不久的小孩喂奶，另外一个小孩，光着屁股，在她脚底下玩。爱塔看见我以后，就招呼思特里克兰德。思特里克兰德从屋子里走到门口。他身上同样也只围着一件帕利欧。他留着大红胡子，头发粘成一团，胸上长满了汗毛，样子真是古怪。他的两只脚磨得起了厚茧，还有许多疤痕，我一看就知道他从不穿鞋。说实在的，他简直比当地人更加土化。他看见我好象很高兴，吩咐爱塔杀一只鸡招待我。他把我领进屋子里，给我看我来的时候他正在画的一张画。屋子的一个角落里摆着一张床，当中是一个画架，画架上钉着一块画布。因为我觉得他挺可怜，所以花了不多钱买了他几张画。这些画大多数我都寄给法国的朋友了。虽然我当时买这些画是出于对他的同情，但是时间长了，我还是喜欢上它们了。我发现这些画有一种奇异的美。别人都说我发疯了，但事实证明我是正确的。我是这个地区第一个能鉴赏他的绘画的人。”

他幸灾乐祸地向蒂阿瑞笑了笑。于是蒂阿瑞又一次后悔不迭地给我们讲起那个老故事来：在拍卖思特里克兰德遗产的时候，她怎样一点儿也没有注意他的画，只花了二十七个法郎买了一个美国的煤油炉子。

“这些画你还保留着吗？”我问。

“是的。我还留着。等我的女儿到了出嫁的年龄我再卖，给她做陪嫁。”

他又接着给我们讲他去看思特里克兰德的事。

“我永远也忘不了我同他一起度过的那个晚上。本来我想在他那里只待一个钟头，但是他执意留我住一夜。我犹豫了一会儿；说老实话，我真不喜欢他建议叫我在上面过夜的那张草席。但是最后我还是耸了耸肩膀，同意留下了。当我在包莫图斯岛给自己盖房子的时候，有好几个星期我睡在外面露天地里，我睡的床要比这张草席硬得多，盖的东西只有草叶子。讲到咬人的小虫，我的又硬又厚的皮肤实在是最好的防护物。

“在爱塔给我们准备晚饭的时候，我同思特里克兰德到小河边上去洗了一个澡。吃过晚饭后，我们就坐在露台上乘凉。我们一边抽烟一边聊天。我来的时候看见的那个年轻人有一架手风琴，他演奏的都是十几年以前音乐厅里流行过的曲子。在热带的夜晚，在这样一个离开人类文明几千里以外的地方，这些曲调给人以一种奇异的感觉。我问思特里克兰德，他这样同各式各样的人胡乱住在一起，是否觉得厌恶。他回答说不；他喜欢他的模特儿就在眼前。过了不久，当地人都大声打着呵欠，各自去睡觉了，露台上只剩下我同思特里克兰德。我无法向你描写夜是多么寂静。在我们包莫图斯的岛上，夜晚从来没有这里这么悄无声息。海滨上有一千种小动物发出窸窸窣窣的声响。各式各样的带甲壳的小东西永远也不停息地到处爬动，另外还有生活在陆地上的螃蟹嚓嚓地横爬过去。有的时候你可以听到咸水湖里鱼儿跳跃的声音，另外的时候，一只棕色鲨鱼把别的鱼儿惊得乱窜，弄得湖里发出一片噼啪的泼溅声。但是压倒这一切嘈杂声响的还是海水拍打礁石的隆隆声，它象时间一样永远也不终止。但是这里却一点儿声音也没有，空气里充满了夜间开放的白花的香气。这里的夜这么美，你的灵魂好象都无法忍受肉体的桎梏了。你感觉到你的灵魂随时都可能飘升到缥缈的空际，死神的面貌就象你亲爱的朋友那样熟悉。”

蒂阿瑞叹了口气。

“啊，我真希望我再回到十五岁的年纪。”

这时，她忽然看见一只猫正在厨房桌上偷对虾吃，随着连珠炮似的一串咒骂，她又麻利又准确地把一本书扔在仓皇逃跑的猫尾巴上。

“我问他同爱塔一起生活幸福不幸福。”

“‘她不打扰我，’他说。‘她给我做饭，照管孩子。我叫她做什么她就做什么。凡是我要求一个女人的，她都给我了。’”

“‘你离开欧洲从来也没有后悔过吗？有的时候你是不是也怀念巴黎或伦敦街头的灯火？怀念你的朋友、伙伴？还有我不知道的一些东西，剧院呀、报纸呀、公共马车隆隆走过鹅卵石路的声响？’”

很久，很久，他一句话也没有说。最后他开口道：

“‘我愿意待在这里，一直到我死。’”

“‘但是你就从来也不感到厌烦，不感到寂寞？’”我问道。

他咯咯地笑了几声。

“‘我可怜的朋友①，’他说，‘很清楚，你不懂作一个艺术家是怎么回事。’”

①原文为法语。

布吕诺船长转过头来对我微微一笑，他的一双和蔼的黑眼睛里闪着奇妙的光辉。

“他这样说对我可太不公平了，因为我也知道什么叫怀着梦想。我自己就也有幻想。从某一方面讲，我自己也是个艺术家。”

半天我们都没有说话。蒂阿瑞从她的大口袋里拿出一把香烟来，递给我们每人一支。我们三个人都抽起烟来。最后她开口说：

“既然这位先生②对思特里克兰德有兴趣，你为什么不带他去见一见库特拉斯医生啊？他可以告诉他一些事，思特里克兰德怎样生病，怎样死的，等等。”

②原文为法语。

“我很愿意③。”船长看着我说。

③原文为法语。

我谢了谢他。他看了看手表。

“现在已经六点多钟了。如果你肯同我走一趟，我想这时候他是在家的。”

我二话没说，马上站了起来；我俩立刻向医生家里走去。库特拉斯住在城外，而鲜花旅馆是在城市边缘上，所以没有几步路，我们就已经走到郊野上了。路很宽，一路上遮覆着胡椒树的浓荫。路两旁都是椰子和香子兰种植园。一种当地人叫海盗鸟的小鸟在棕榈树的叶子里吱吱喳喳地叫着。我们在路上经过一条浅溪，上面有一座石桥；我们在桥上站了一会儿，看着本地人的孩子在水里嬉戏。他们笑着、喊着，在水里互相追逐，棕色的小身体滴着水珠，在阳光下闪闪发光。

I suppose the next three years were the happiest of Strickland's life. Ata's house stood about eight kilometres from the road that runs round the island, and you went to it along a winding pathway shaded by the luxuriant trees of the tropics. It was a bungalow of unpainted wood, consisting of two small rooms, and outside was a small shed that served as a kitchen. There was no furniture except the mats they used as beds, and a rocking-chair, which stood on the verandah. Bananas with their great ragged leaves, like the tattered habiliments of an empress in adversity, grew close up to the house. There was a tree just behind which bore alligator pears, and all about were the cocoa-nuts which gave the land its revenue. Ata's father had planted crotons round his property, and they grew in coloured profusion, gay and brilliant; they fenced the land with flame. A mango grew in front of the house, and at the edge of the clearing were two flamboyants, twin trees, that challenged the gold of the cocoa-nuts with their scarlet flowers.

Here Strickland lived, coming seldom to Papeete, on the produce of the land. There was a little stream that ran not far away, in which he bathed, and down this on occasion would come a shoal of fish. Then the natives would assemble with spears, and with much shouting would transfix the great startled things as they hurried down to the sea. Sometimes Strickland would go down to the reef, and come back with a basket of small, coloured fish that Ata would fry in cocoa-nut oil, or with a lobster; and sometimes she would make a savoury dish of the great land-crabs that scuttled away under your feet. Up the mountain were wild-orange trees, and now and then Ata would go with two or three women from the village and return laden with the green, sweet, luscious fruit. Then the cocoa-nuts would be ripe for picking, and her cousins (like all the natives, Ata had a host of relatives) would swarm up the trees and throw down the big ripe nuts. They split them open and put them in the sun to dry. Then they cut out the copra and put it into sacks, and the women would carry it down to the trader at the village by the lagoon, and he would give in exchange for it rice and soap and tinned meat and a little money. Sometimes there would be a feast in the neighbourhood, and a pig would be killed. Then they would go and eat themselves sick, and dance, and sing hymns.

But the house was a long way from the village, and the Tahitians are lazy. They love to travel and they love to gossip, but they do not care to walk, and for weeks at a time Strickland and Ata lived alone. He painted and he read, and in the evening, when it was dark, they sat together on the verandah, smoking and looking at the night. Then Ata had a baby, and the old woman who came up to help her through her trouble stayed on. Presently the granddaughter of the old woman came to stay with her, and then a youth appeared -- no one quite knew where from or to whom he belonged -- but he settled down with them in a happy-go-lucky way, and they all lived together,

我想，这以后的三年是思特里克兰德一生中最幸福的一段日子。爱塔的房子距离环岛公路有八公里远，要到那里去需要走过一条为热带丛林浓荫覆盖着的羊肠小道。这是一幢用本色木头盖成的带凉台的平房，一共有两间屋子，屋外还有一间用作厨房的小棚子。室内没有家具，地上铺着席子当床用。只有凉台上放着一把摇椅。

芭蕉树一直长到房子的跟前；巨大的叶子破破烂烂，好象一位遭了厄运的女王的破烂衣衫。房子背后有一株梨树，房子四周到处种着能变钱花的椰子树。爱塔的父亲生前围着这片地产种了一圈巴豆；这些巴豆如今生得密密匝匝，开着绚烂的花朵，象一道火焰墙似地把椰林围绕起来。此外，正对着房子还有一棵芒果树，房前一块空地边上有两棵姊妹树，开着火红的花朵，同椰子树的金黄椰果竞相斗妍。

思特里克兰德就靠着这块地的出产过活，很少到帕皮提去。离他住的地方不远有一条小河，他经常在里面洗澡。有时候河水里有鱼群出现，土人们便拿着长矛从各处走来，大吵大嚷地把正向海里游去的受惊的大鱼叉上来。思特里克兰德有时候也到海滩上去，回来的时候总带来一筐各种颜色的小鱼。爱塔用椰子油把鱼炸了，有时还配上一只大海虾，另外她还常常给他做一盘味道鲜美的螃蟹，这种螃蟹在脚底下爬来爬去，一伸手就可以捉住。山上面长着野桔子树；爱塔偶然同村子里两三个女伴上山去，总是满载而归，带回许多芬芳甘美的绿色小桔子。不久以后，椰子成熟，就该到采摘的时候了。爱塔的表兄表弟、堂兄堂弟（象所有的土人一样，她的亲戚数也数不过来）成群结队地爬到树上去，把成熟的大椰子扔下来。他们把椰子剖开，放在太阳底下晒。晒干以后就把椰肉取出来，装在口袋里。妇女们把一袋袋的椰肉运到咸水湖附近一个村落的贸易商人那里，换回来大米、肥皂、罐头肉和一点点儿钱。有时候邻村有什么庆贺宴会，就要杀猪。附近的人蜂拥到那里，又是跳舞，又是唱赞美诗，大吃大喝一顿，吃得人人都快要呕吐了。

但是他们的房子离附近的村子很远，塔希提的人是不喜欢活动的。他们喜欢旅行，喜欢闲聊天，就是不喜欢走路。有时候一连几个星期也没有人到思特里克兰德同爱塔家里来。思特里克兰德画画儿、看书，天黑了以后，就同爱塔一起坐在凉台上，一边抽烟一边望着天空。后来爱塔给他生了一个孩子。生孩子的时候来服侍她的一个老婆婆待下来，一直也没有走。不久，老婆婆的一个孙女也来同他们住在一起，后来又来了个小伙子——谁也不清楚这个人从哪儿来，同哪个人有亲属关系——，他也毫无牵挂地在这里落了户。就这样他们逐渐成了个大家庭。

Tiare, when I told her this story, praised my prudence, and for a few minutes we worked in silence, for we were shelling peas. Then her eyes, always alert for the affairs of her kitchen, fell on some action of the Chinese cook which aroused her violent disapproval. She turned on him with a torrent of abuse. The Chink was not backward to defend himself, and a very lively quarrel ensued. They spoke in the native language, of which I had learnt but half a dozen words, and it sounded as though the world would shortly come to an end; but presently peace was restored and Tiare gave the cook a cigarette. They both smoked comfortably.

"Do you know, it was I who found him his wife?" said Tiare suddenly, with a smile that spread all over her immense face.

"The cook?"

"No, Strickland. "

"But he had one already. "

"That is what he said, but I told him she was in England, and England is at the other end of the world. "

"True, " I replied.

"He would come to Papeete every two or three months, when he wanted paints or tobacco or money, and then he would wander about like a lost dog. I was sorry for him. I had a girl here then called Ata to do the rooms; she was some sort of a relation of mine, and her father and mother were dead, so I had her to live with me. Strickland used to come here now and then to have a square meal or to play chess with one of the boys. I noticed that she looked at him when he came, and I asked her if she liked him. She said she liked him well enough. You know what these girls are; they're always pleased to go with a white man. "

"Was she a native?" I asked.

"Yes; she hadn't a drop of white blood in her. Well, after I'd talked to her I sent for Strickland, and I said to him: `Strickland, it's time for you to settle down. A man of your age shouldn't go playing about with the girls down at the front. They're bad lots, and you'll come to no good with them. You've got no money, and you can never keep a job for more than a month or two. No one will employ you now. You say you can always live in the bush with one or other of the natives, and they're glad to have you because you're a white man, but it's not decent for a white man. Now, listen to me, Strickland. '"

Tiare mingled French with English in her conversation, for she used both languages with equal facility. She spoke them with a singing accent which was not unpleasing. You felt that a bird would speak in these tones if it could speak English.

"'Now, what do you say to marrying Ata? She's a good girl and she's only seventeen. She's never been promiscuous like some of these girls -- a captain or a first mate, yes, but she's never been touched by a native. Elle se respecte, vois-tu. The purser of the Oahu told me last journey that he hadn't met a nicer girl in the islands. It's time she settled down too, and besides, the captains and the first mates like a change now and then. I don't keep my girls too long. She has a bit of property down by Taravao, just before you come to the peninsula, and with copra at the price it is now you could live quite comfortably. There's a house, and you'd have all the time you wanted for your painting. What do you say to it?"

Tiare paused to take breath.

"It was then he told me of his wife in England. 'My poor Strickland, ' I said to him, 'they've all got a wife somewhere; that is generally why they come to the islands. Ata is a sensible girl, and she doesn't expect any ceremony before the Mayor. She's a Protestant, and you know they don't look upon these things like the Catholics. '

"Then he said: `But what does Ata say to it?' `It appears that she has a beguin for you, ' I said. `She's willing if you are. Shall I call her?' He chuckled in a funny, dry way he had, and I called her. She knew what I was talking about, the hussy, and I saw her out of the corner of my eyes listening with all her ears, while she pretended to iron a blouse that she had been washing for me. She came. She was laughing, but I could see that she was a little shy, and Strickland looked at her without speaking. "

"Was she pretty?" I asked.

"Not bad. But you must have seen pictures of her. He painted her over and over again, sometimes with a pareo on and sometimes with nothing at all. Yes, she was pretty enough. And she knew how to cook. I taught her myself. I saw Strickland was thinking of it, so I said to him: 'I've given her good wages and she's saved them, and the captains and the first mates she's known have given her a little something now and then. She's saved several hundred francs. '

"He pulled his great red beard and smiled.

"`Well, Ata, ' he said, 'do you fancy me for a husband. '

"She did not say anything, but just giggled.

"`But I tell you, my poor Strickland, the girl has a beguin for you, ' I said.

"I shall beat you, ' he said, looking at her.

"`How else should I know you loved me, ' she answered. "

Tiare broke off her narrative and addressed herself to me reflectively.

"My first husband, Captain Johnson, used to thrash me regularly. He was a man. He was handsome, six foot three, and when he was drunk there was no holding him. I would be black and blue all over for days at a time. Oh, I cried when he died. I thought I should never get over it. But it wasn't till I married George Rainey that I knew what I'd lost. You can never tell what a man is like till you live with him. I've never been so deceived in a man as I was in George Rainey. He was a fine, upstanding fellow too. He was nearly as tall as Captain Johnson, and he looked strong enough. But it was all on the surface. He never drank. He never raised his hand to me. He might have been a missionary. I made love with the officers of every ship that touched the island, and George Rainey never saw anything. At last I was disgusted with him, and I got a divorce. What was the good of a husband like that? It's a terrible thing the way some men treat women. "

I condoled with Tiare, and remarked feelingly that men were deceivers ever, then asked her to go on with her story of Strickland.

"`Well, ' I said to him, `there's no hurry about it. Take your time and think it over. Ata has a very nice room in the annexe. Live with her for a month, and see how you like her. You can have your meals here. And at the end of a month, if you decide you want to marry her, you can just go and settle down on her property. '

"Well, he agreed to that. Ata continued to do the housework, and I gave him his meals as I said I would. I taught Ata to make one or two dishes I knew he was fond of. He did not paint much. He wandered about the hills and bathed in the stream. And he sat about the front looking at the lagoon, and at sunset he would go down and look at Murea. He used to go fishing on the reef. He loved to moon about the harbour talking to the natives. He was a nice, quiet fellow. And every evening after dinner he would go down to the annexe with Ata. I saw he was longing to get away to the bush, and at the end of the month I asked him what he intended to do. He said if Ata was willing to go, he was willing to go with her. So I gave them a wedding dinner. I cooked it with my own hands. I gave them a pea soup and lobster a la portugaise, and a curry, and a cocoa-nut salad -- you've never had one of my cocoa-nut salads, have you? I must make you one before you go -- and then I made them an ice. We had all the champagne we could drink and liqueurs to follow. Oh, I'd made up my mind to do things well. And afterwards we danced in the drawing-room. I was not so fat, then, and I always loved dancing. "

The drawing-room at the Hotel de la Fleur was a small room, with a cottage piano, and a suite of mahogany furniture, covered in stamped velvet, neatly arranged around the walls. On round tables were photograph albums, and on the walls enlarged photographs of Tiare and her first husband, Captain Johnson. Still, though Tiare was old and fat, on occasion we rolled back the Brussels carpet, brought in the maids and one or two friends of Tiare's, and danced, though now to the wheezy music of a gramaphone. On the verandah the air was scented with the heavy perfume of the tiare, and overhead the Southern Cross shone in a cloudless sky.

Tiare smiled indulgently as she remembered the gaiety of a time long passed.

"We kept it up till three, and when we went to bed I don't think anyone was very sober. I had told them they could have my trap to take them as far as the road went, because after that they had a long walk. Ata's property was right away in a fold of the mountain. They started at dawn, and the boy I sent with them didn't come back till next day.

"Yes, that's how Strickland was married. "

当我给蒂阿瑞讲完了这个故事，她很称赞我看问题的敏锐。这以后，我们埋头干了几分钟活儿，谁也没有再开口，因为我们当时正在剥豆子。她的眼睛对厨房里发生的事一件也不放过，没过多一会儿，她看到中国厨师做了一件她非常不赞成的事，马上对他骂了一大串话，但是那个中国人也毫不示弱，于是你一言我一语，展开一场极为激烈的舌战。他们对骂时用的是当地土话，我只听得懂五、六个词，给我的印象是，好象世界末日都快要到了。但是没过多久，和平就又恢复了，而且蒂阿瑞居然还递给厨师傅一根纸烟。两个人都舒舒服服地喷起云雾来。

“你知道，他的老婆还是我给找的呢，”蒂阿瑞突如其来地说了一句，一张大脸上布满了笑容。

“厨师傅的老婆？”

“不，思特里克兰德的。”

“他已经有了呀。”

“他也这么说。可是我告诉他，她的老婆在英国，英国在地球的那一边呢。”

“不错，”我回答说。

“每隔两三个月，当他需要油彩啊、烟草啊，或者缺钱花的时候，他就到帕皮提来一趟。到了这里，他总是象个没主的野狗似地东游西荡，我看着怪可怜的。我这里雇着一个女孩子，帮我收拾房间。她名字叫爱塔。她是我的一个远房亲戚，父母都死了，所以我只好收留了她。思特里克兰德有时候到我这儿来吃一顿饱饭，或者同我这里的哪个干活儿的下盘棋。我发现每次他来的时候，爱塔都盯着他。我就问她她是不是喜欢这个人。她说她很喜欢他。你知道这些女孩子是怎么样的，都喜欢找个白人。”

“爱塔是本地人吗？”我问。

“是的，一滴白人的血液也没有。就这样，在我同她谈了以后，我就派人把思特里克兰德找来，我对他说：‘思特里克兰德啊，你也该在这里安家落户了。象你这样年龄的人不应该再同码头边上的女人鬼混了。那里面没有好人，跟她们在一起你是落不出好儿来的。你又没有钱，不管什么事你都干不长，没有干过两个月的。现在没有人肯雇你了。尽管你说你可以同哪个土人一直住在丛林里头，他们也愿意同你住在一起，因为你是个白人，但是作为一个白人来说，你这种生活可不象样子。现在我给你出个主意，思特里克兰德。’”

蒂阿瑞说话的时候一会儿用法语，一会儿用英语，因为这两种话她说得同样流利。她说话的时候语调象是在唱歌，听起来非常悦耳。如果小鸟会讲英语的话，你会觉得它正是用这种调子说话的。

“‘听我说，你跟爱塔结婚怎么样？她是个好姑娘，今年才十七岁。她从来不象这里有些女孩那样乱来——同个把船长或是大副要好过，这种事倒是有，但是跟当地人却绝对没有乱来过。她是很自爱的，你知道①。上回奥阿胡号到这里来的时候，船上的事务长对我讲，他在所有这些岛上还从来没有遇见过比她更好的姑娘呢。她现在也到了寻个归宿的时候啦，再说，船长也好、大副也好，总不时地想换个口味。凡是给我干活的女孩子我都不叫她们干多少年。爱塔在塔拉窝河旁弄到一小块地产，就在你到这里不久以前，收获的椰子干按现在的市价算足够你舒舒服服过日子。那里还有一幢房子，你要想画画儿要多少时间有多少时间。你觉得怎么样？’”

①原文为法语。

蒂阿瑞停下来喘了一口气。

“就在这个时候，他告诉我他在英国是有老婆的。‘我可怜的思特里克兰德，’我对他说，‘他们在别的地方都有个外家；一般说来，这也是为什么他们到我们这些岛上来的原故。爱塔是个通情达理的姑娘，她不要求当着市长的面举行什么仪式。她是个耶稣教徒，你知道，信耶稣教的对待这种事不象信天主教的人那么古板。’”

“这时候他说道：‘那么爱塔对这件事有什么意见呢？’‘看起来，她对你很有情意②，’我说，‘如果你愿意，她也会同意的。要不要我叫她来一下？’思特里克兰德咯咯地笑起来，象他平常那样，笑声干干巴巴，样子非常滑稽。于是我就把爱塔叫过来。爱塔知道刚才我在同思特里克兰德谈什么，这个骚丫头；我一直用眼角盯着她，她假装在给我熨一件刚刚洗过的罩衫，耳朵却一个字不漏地听着我们俩讲话。她走到我面前，咯咯地笑着，但是我看得出来，她有一些害羞。思特里克兰德打量了她一阵，没有说什么。”

②原文为法语。

“她长得好看吗？”我问。

“挺漂亮。但是你过去一定看到过她的画儿了。他给她画了一幅又一幅，有时候围着一件帕利欧①，有时候什么都不穿。不错，她长得蛮漂亮。她会做饭。是我亲自教会她的。我看到思特里克兰德正在琢磨这件事，我就对他说：‘我给她的工资很多，她都攒起来了。她认识的那些船长和大副有时候也送给她一点儿东西。她已经攒了好几百法郎了。’”

①当地人的服装，一种用土布做的束腰。

思特里克兰德一边揪着大红胡子，一边笑起来。

“‘喂，爱塔，’他说，‘你喜欢不喜欢叫我当你丈夫？’”

她什么话也没说，只是叽叽咯咯地笑着。

“‘我不是告诉你了吗，思特里克兰德，这个女孩子对你挺有情意②吗？’”我说。

②原文为法语。

“‘我可是要揍你的。’”他望着她说。

“‘你要是不打我，我怎么知道你爱我呢？’”她回答说。

蒂阿瑞把这个故事打断，回溯起自己的往事来。

“我的第一个丈夫，约翰生船长，也总是经常不断地用鞭子抽我。他是个男子汉，六英尺三高，长得仪表堂堂。他一喝醉了，谁也劝不住他，总是把我浑身打得青一块、紫一块，多少天也退不去。咳，他死了的时候我那个哭啊。我想我这辈子再也不能从这个打击里恢复过来啦。但是我真的懂得我的损失多么大，那还是在我同乔治·瑞恩尼结婚以后。要是不跟一个男的一起生活，你是永远不会知道他是怎样一个人的。乔治·瑞恩尼叫我大失所望，任何一个男人也没有这么叫我失望过。他长得也挺漂亮，身材魁梧，差不多同约翰生船长一样高，看起来非常结实。但是这一切都是表面现象。他从来没有喝醉过，从来没有动手打过我。简直可以当个传教士。每一条轮船进港我都同船上的高级船员谈情说爱，可是乔治·瑞恩尼什么也看不见。最后我实在腻味他了，我跟他离了婚。嫁了这么一个丈夫有什么好处呢？有些男人对待女人的方式真是太可怕了。”

我安慰了一下蒂阿瑞，表示同情地说，男人总是叫女人上当的；接着我就请她继续给我讲思特里克兰德的故事。

“‘好吧，’我对思特里克兰德说，‘这事不用着急。慢慢地好好想一想。爱塔在厢房里有一间挺不错的屋子，你跟她一起生活一个月，看看是不是喜欢她。你可以在我这里吃饭。一个月以后，如果你决定同她结婚，你就可以到她那块地产上安下家来。’”

“他同意这样做。爱塔仍然给我干活儿，我叫思特里克兰德在我这里吃饭，象我答应过的那样。我教给爱塔做一两样他喜欢吃的菜。他并没有怎么画画儿。他在山里游荡，在河里边洗澡。他坐在海边上眺望咸水湖。每逢日落的时候，就到海边上去看莫里阿岛。他也常常到礁石上去钓鱼。他喜欢在码头上闲逛，同本地人东拉西扯。他从不叫叫嚷嚷，非常讨人喜欢。每天吃过晚饭他就同爱塔一起到厢房里去。我看得出来，他渴望回到丛林里去。到了一个月头上，我问他打算怎么办。他说，要是爱塔愿意走的话，他是愿意同爱塔一起走的。于是我给他们准备了一桌喜酒。我亲自下的厨。我给他们做了豌豆汤、葡萄牙式的大虾、咖喱饭和椰子色拉——你还没尝过我做的椰子色拉呢，是不是？在你离开这里以前我一定给你做一回——我还给他们准备了冰激凌。我们拼命地喝香槟，接着又喝甜酒。啊，我早就打定主意，一定要把婚礼办得象个样子。吃完了饭，我们就在客厅里跳舞。那时候我还不象现在这么胖，我从年轻的时候就喜欢跳舞。”

鲜花旅馆的客厅并不大，摆着一架简易式的钢琴，沿着四边墙整整齐齐地摆着一套菲律宾红木家具，上面铺着烙着花的丝绒罩子，圆桌上放着几本照相簿，墙上挂着蒂阿瑞同她第一个丈夫约翰生船长的放大照片。虽然蒂阿瑞已经又老又胖，可是有几次我们还是把布鲁塞尔地毯卷起来，请来在旅馆里干活的女孩子同蒂阿瑞的两个朋友，跳起舞来，只不过伴奏的是由一台象害了气喘病似的唱机放出的音乐而已。露台上，空气里弥漫着蒂阿瑞花的浓郁香气，头顶上，南十字座星在万里无云的天空上闪烁发光。

蒂阿瑞回忆起很久以前的那次盛会，脸上不禁显出迷醉的笑容来。

“那天我们一直玩到半夜三点钟，上床的时候没有一个人不喝得醉醺醺的。我早就同他们讲好，他们可以乘我的小马车走，一直到大路通不过去的地方。那以后，他们还要走很长的一段路。爱塔的产业在很远很远的一处山峦叠抱的地方。他们天一亮就动身了，我派去送他们的仆人直到第二天才回来。

“不错，思特里克兰德就这样结婚了。”

I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deeprooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.

I told Tiare the story of a man I had known at St. Thomas's Hospital. He was a Jew named Abraham, a blond, rather stout young man, shy and very unassuming; but he had remarkable gifts. He entered the hospital with a scholarship, and during the five years of the curriculum gained every prize that was open to him. He was made house-physician and house-surgeon. His brilliance was allowed by all. Finally he was elected to a position on the staff, and his career was assured. So far as human things can be predicted, it was certain that he would rise to the greatest heights of his profession. Honours and wealth awaited him. Before he entered upon his new duties he wished to take a holiday, and, having no private means, he went as surgeon on a tramp steamer to the Levant. It did not generally carry a doctor, but one of the senior surgeons at the hospital knew a director of the line, and Abraham was taken as a favour.

In a few weeks the authorities received his resignation of the coveted position on the staff. It created profound astonishment, and wild rumours were current. Whenever a man does anything unexpected, his fellows ascribe it to the most discreditable motives. But there was a man ready to step into Abraham's shoes, and Abraham was forgotten. Nothing more was heard of him. He vanished.

It was perhaps ten years later that one morning on board ship, about to land at Alexandria, I was bidden to line up with the other passengers for the doctor's examination. The doctor was a stout man in shabby clothes, and when he took off his hat I noticed that he was very bald. I had an idea that I had seen him before. Suddenly I remembered.

"Abraham, " I said.

He turned to me with a puzzled look, and then, recognizing me, seized my hand. After expressions of surprise on either side, hearing that I meant to spend the night in Alexandria, he asked me to dine with him at the English Club. When we met again I declared my astonishment at finding him there. It was a very modest position that he occupied, and there was about him an air of straitened circumstance. Then he told me his story. When he set out on his holiday in the Mediterranean he had every intention of returning to London and his appointment at St. Thomas's. One morning the tramp docked at Alexandria, and from the deck he looked at the city, white in the sunlight, and the crowd on the wharf; he saw the natives in their shabby gabardines, the blacks from the Soudan, the noisy throng of Greeks and Italians, the grave Turks in tarbooshes, the sunshine and the blue sky; and something happened to him. He could not describe it. It was like a thunder-clap, he said, and then, dissatisfied with this, he said it was like a revelation. Something seemed to twist his heart, and suddenly he felt an exultation, a sense of wonderful freedom. He felt himself at home, and he made up his mind there and then, in a minute, that he would live the rest of his life in Alexandria. He had no great difficulty in leaving the ship, and in twenty-four hours, with all his belongings, he was on shore.

"The Captain must have thought you as mad as a hatter, " I smiled.

"I didn't care what anybody thought. It wasn't I that acted, but something stronger within me. I thought I would go to a little Greek hotel, while I looked about, and I felt I knew where to find one. And do you know, I walked straight there, and when I saw it, I recognised it at once. "

"Had you been to Alexandria before?"

"No; I'd never been out of England in my life. "

Presently he entered the Government service, and there he had been ever since.

"Have you never regretted it?"

"Never, not for a minute. I earn just enough to live upon, and I'm satisfied. I ask nothing more than to remain as I am till I die. I've had a wonderful life. "

I left Alexandria next day, and I forgot about Abraham till a little while ago, when I was dining with another old friend in the profession, Alec Carmichael, who was in England on short leave. I ran across him in the street and congratulated him on the knighthood with which his eminent services during the war had been rewarded. We arranged to spend an evening together for old time's sake, and when I agreed to dine with him, he proposed that he should ask nobody else, so that we could chat without interruption. He had a beautiful old house in Queen Anne Street, and being a man of taste he had furnished it admirably. On the walls of the diningroom I saw a charming Bellotto, and there was a pair of Zoffanys that I envied. When his wife, a tall, lovely creature in cloth of gold, had left us, I remarked laughingly on the change in his present circumstances from those when we had both been medical students. We had looked upon it then as an extravagance to dine in a shabby Italian restaurant in the Westminster Bridge Road. Now Alec Carmichael was on the staff of half a dozen hospitals. I should think he earned ten thousand a year, and his knighthood was but the first of the honours which must inevitably fall to his lot.

"I've done pretty well, " he said, "but the strange thing is that I owe it all to one piece of luck. "

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, do you remember Abraham? He was the man who had the future. When we were students he beat me all along the line. He got the prizes and the scholarships that I went in for. I always played second fiddle to him. If he'd kept on he'd be in the position I'm in now. That man had a genius for surgery. No one had a look in with him. When he was appointed Registrar at Thomas's I hadn't a chance of getting on the staff. I should have had to become a G. P. , and you know what likelihood there is for a G. P. ever to get out of the common rut. But Abraham fell out, and I got the job. That gave me my opportunity. "

"I dare say that's true. "

"It was just luck. I suppose there was some kink in Abraham. Poor devil, he's gone to the dogs altogether. He's got some twopenny-halfpenny job in the medical at Alexandria -- sanitary officer or something like that. I'm told he lives with an ugly old Greek woman and has half a dozen scrofulous kids. The fact is, I suppose, that it's not enough to have brains. The thing that counts is character. Abraham hadn't got character. "

Character? I should have thought it needed a good deal of character to throw up a career after half an hour's meditation, because you saw in another way of living a more intense significance. And it required still more character never to regret the sudden step. But I said nothing, and Alec Carmichael proceeded reflectively:

"Of course it would be hypocritical for me to pretend that I regret what Abraham did. After all, I've scored by it. " He puffed luxuriously at the long Corona he was smoking. "But if I weren't personally concerned I should be sorry at the waste. It seems a rotten thing that a man should make such a hash of life. "

I wondered if Abraham really had made a hash of life. Is to do what you most want, to live under the conditions that please you, in peace with yourself, to make a hash of life; and is it success to be an eminent surgeon with ten thousand a year and a beautiful wife? I suppose it depends on what meaning you attach to life, the claim which you acknowledge to society, and the claim of the individual. But again I held my tongue, for who am I to argue with a knight?

我认为有些人诞生在某一个地方可以说未得其所。机缘把他们随便抛掷到一个环境中，而他们却一直思念着一处他们自己也不知道坐落在何处的家乡。在出生的地方他们好象是过客；从孩提时代就非常熟悉的浓荫郁郁的小巷，同小伙伴游戏其中的人烟稠密的街衢，对他们说来都不过是旅途中的一个宿站。这种人在自己亲友中可能终生落落寡台，在他们唯一熟悉的环境里也始终孑身独处。也许正是在本乡本土的这种陌生感才逼着他们远游异乡，寻找一处永恒定居的寓所。说不定在他们内心深处仍然隐伏着多少世代前祖先的习性和癖好，叫这些彷徨者再回到他们祖先在远古就已离开的土地。有时候一个人偶然到了一个地方，会神秘地感觉到这正是自己栖身之所，是他一直在寻找的家园。于是他就在这些从未寓目的景物里，从不相识的人群中定居下来，倒好象这里的一切都是他从小就熟稔的一样。他在这里终于找到了宁静。

我给蒂阿瑞讲了一个我在圣托玛斯医院认识的人的故事。这是个犹太人，姓阿伯拉罕。他是个金黄头发、身体粗壮的年轻人。性格腼腆，对人和气，但是很有才能。他是靠着一笔奖学金入学的，在五年学习期间，任何一种奖金只要他有机会申请就绝对没有旁人的份儿。他先当了住院内科医生，后来又当了住院外科医生。没有人不承认他的才华过人。最后他被选进领导机构中，他的前程已经有了可靠的保证。按照世情推论，他在自己这门事业上肯定会飞黄腾达、名利双收的。在正式上任以前，他想度一次假；因为他自己没有钱，所以在一艘开往地中海的不定期货船上谋了个医生位置。这种货轮上一般是没有医生的，只是由于医院里有一名高级外科医生认识跑这条航线的一家轮船公司的经理，货轮看在经理情面上才录用了阿伯拉罕。

几个星期以后，医院领导人收到一份辞呈，阿伯拉罕声明他决定放弃这个人人嫉羡的位置。这件事使人们感到极其惊诧，千奇百怪的谣言不胫而走。每逢一个人干出一件出人意料的事，他的相识们总是替他想出种种最令人无法置信的动机。但是既然早就有人准备好填补他留下的空缺，阿伯拉罕不久也就被人遗忘了。以后再也没人听到他的任何消息。这个人就这样从人们的记忆里消失了。

大约十年之后，有一次我乘船去亚历山大港①。即将登陆之前，一天早上，我被通知同其他旅客一起排好队，等待医生上船来检查身体。来的医生是个衣履寒酸、身体肥硕的人。当他摘下帽子以后，我发现这人的头发已经完全秃了。我觉得仿佛过去在什么地方见过他。忽然，我想起来了。

①在埃及。

“阿伯拉罕。”我喊道。

他转过头来，脸上显出惊奇的神色。愣了一会儿，他也认出我来，立刻握住我的手。在我们两人各自惊叹了一番后，他听说我准备在亚历山大港过夜，便邀请我到英侨俱乐部去吃晚饭。在我们会面以后，我再次表示在这个地方遇到他实在出乎我的意料之外。他现在的职务相当低微，他给人的印象也很寒酸。这以后他给我讲了他的故事。在他出发到地中海度假的时候，他一心想的是再回伦敦去，到圣·托玛斯医院去就职。一天早晨，他乘的那艘货轮在亚历山大港靠岸，他从甲板上看着这座阳光照耀下的白色城市，看着码头上的人群。他看着穿着褴褛的轧别丁衣服的当地人，从苏丹来的黑人，希腊人和意大利人成群结队、吵吵嚷嚷，土耳其人戴着平顶无檐的土耳其小帽，他看着阳光和碧蓝的天空。就在这个时候，他的心境忽然发生了奇异的变化，他无法描述这是怎么一回事。事情来得非常突兀，据他说，好象晴天响起一声霹雳；但他觉得这个譬喻不够妥当，又改口说好象得到了什么启示。他的心好象被什么东西揪了一下。突然间，他感到一阵狂喜，有一种取得无限自由的感觉。他觉得自己好象回到了老家，他当时当地就打定主意，今后的日子他都要在亚历山大度过了。离开货轮并没有什么困难；二十四小时以后，他已经带着自己的全部行李登岸了。

“船长一定会觉得你发疯了。”我笑着说。

“别人爱怎么想就怎么想，我才不在乎呢。做出这件事来的不是我，是我身体里一种远比我自己的意志更强大的力量。上岸以后，我四处看了看，想着我要到一家希腊人开的小旅馆去；我觉得我知道在哪里能找到这家旅馆。你猜怎么着？我一点儿也没有费劲儿就走到这家旅馆前边，我一看见这地方马上就认出来了。”

“你过去到过亚历山大港吗？”

“没有。在这次出国前我从来没有离开过英国。”

不久以后，他就在公立医院找到个工作，从此一直待在那里。

“你从来没有后悔过吗？”

“从来没有。一分钟也没有后悔过。我挣的钱刚够维持生活，但是我感到心满意足。我什么要求也没有，只希望这样活下去，直到我死。我生活得非常好。”

第二天我就离开了亚历山大港，直到不久以前我才又想起阿伯拉罕的事。那是我同另外一个行医的老朋友，阿莱克·卡尔米凯尔一同吃饭的时候。卡尔米凯尔回英国来短期度假，我偶然在街头上遇见了他。他在大战中工作得非常出色，荣获了爵士封号。我向他表示了祝贺。我们约好一同消磨一个晚上，一起叙叙旧。我答应同他一起吃晚饭，他建议不再约请别人，这样我俩就可以不受干扰地畅谈一下了。他在安皇后街有一所老宅子，布置很优雅，因为他是一个很富于艺术鉴赏力的人。我在餐厅的墙上看到一幅贝洛托①的画，还有两幅我很羡慕的佐范尼②的作品。当他的妻子，一个穿着金色衣服、高身量、样子讨人喜欢的妇女离开我们以后，我笑着对他说，他今天的生活同我们在医学院做学生的时代相比，变化真是太大了。那时，我们在威斯敏斯特桥大街一家寒酸的意大利餐馆吃一顿饭都认为是非常奢侈的事。现在阿莱克·卡尔米凯尔在六七家大医院都兼任要职，据我估计，一年可以有一万镑的收入。这次受封为爵士，只不过是他迟早要享受到的第一个荣誉而已。

①贝尔纳多·贝洛托（1720—1780），意大利威尼斯派画家。

②约翰·佐范尼（1733—1810），出生于德国的英国画家。

“我混得不错，”他说，“但是奇怪的是，这一切都归功于我偶然交了一个好运。”

“我不懂你说的是什么意思？”

“不懂？你还记得阿伯拉罕吧？应该飞黄腾达的本该是他。做学生的时候，他处处把我打得惨败。奖金也好，助学金也好，都被他从我手里夺去；哪次我都甘拜下风。如果他这样继续下去，我现在的地位就是他的了。他对于外科手术简直是个天才。谁也无法同他竞争。当他被指派为圣·托玛斯附属医学院注册员的时候，我是绝对没有希望进入领导机构的。我只能开业当个医生，你也知道，一个普通开业行医的人有多大可能跳出这个槽槽去。但是阿伯拉罕却让位了，他的位子让我弄到手了。这样就给了我步步高升的机会了。”

“我想你说的话是真的。”

“这完全是运气。我想，阿伯拉罕这人心理一定变态了。这个可怜虫，一点儿救也没有了。他在亚历山大港卫生部门找了个小差事——检疫员什么的。有人告诉我，他同一个丑陋的希腊老婆子住在一起，生了半打长着瘰疬疙瘩的小崽子。所以我想，问题不在于一个人脑子聪明不聪明，真正重要的是要有个性。阿伯拉罕缺少的正是个性。”

个性？在我看来，一个人因为看到另外一种生活方式更有重大的意义，只经过半小时的考虑就甘愿抛弃一生的事业前途，这才需要很强的个性呢。贸然走出这一步，以后永不后悔，那需要的个性就更多了。但是我什么也没说。阿莱克·卡尔米凯尔继续沉思着说：

“当然了，如果我对阿伯拉罕的行径故作遗憾，我这人也就太虚伪了。不管怎么说，正因为他走了这么一步，才让我占了便宜。”他吸着一支长长的寇罗纳牌哈瓦那雪茄烟，舒适地喷着烟圈。“但是如果这件事同我个人没有牵连的话，我是会为他虚掷才华感到可惜的。一个人竟这样糟蹋自己实在太令人心痛了。”

我很怀疑，阿伯拉罕是否真的糟蹋了自己。做自己最想做的事，生活在自己喜爱的环境里，淡泊宁静、与世无争，这难道是糟蹋自己吗？与此相反，做一个著名的外科医生，年薪一万镑，娶一位美丽的妻子，就是成功吗？我想，这一切都取决于一个人如何看待生活的意义，取决于他认为对社会应尽什么义务，对自己有什么要求。但是我还是没有说什么；我有什么资格同一位爵士争辩呢？