He was sore andbruised, and his thoughts went back to the tenderness of his mother's love. Theridicule he had endured for years seemed now to weigh him down, and the finalblow of Blanche's treachery had robbed him of the resiliency which had made himtake it so gaily. He could no longer laugh with those who laughed at him. Hewas an outcast. He told me of his childhood in the tidy brick house, and of hismother's passionate orderliness. Her kitchen was a miracle of clean brightness.Everything was always in its place, and no where could you see a speck of dust.Cleanliness, indeed, was a mania with her. I saw a neat little old woman, withcheeks like apples, toiling away from morning to night, through the long years,to keep her house trim and spruce. His father was a spare old man, his handsgnarled after the work of a lifetime, silent and upright; in the evening he readthe paper aloud, while his wife and daughter (now married to the captain of afishing smack), unwilling to lose a moment, bent over their sewing. Nothingever happened in that little town, left behind by the advance of civilisation,and one year followed the next till death came, like a friend, to give rest tothose who had laboured so diligently.

施特略夫现在遍体鳞伤，他的思想又让他回去寻找慈母的温情慰抚。多少年来他忍受的挪揄嘲笑现在好象已经把他压倒，勃朗什对他的背叛给他带来了最后一次打击，使他失去了以笑脸承受讥嘲的韧性。他不能再同那些嘲笑他的人一起放声大笑了。他已经成了一个摈弃于社会之外的人。他对我讲他在一所整洁有序的砖房子里消磨掉的童年。他的母亲生性爱好整洁，厨房收拾得干干净净、锃光瓦亮，简直是个奇迹。锅碗瓢盆都放得有条不紊，任何地方也找不出一星灰尘。说实在的，他母亲爱好清洁简直有些过头了。我仿佛看到了一个干净利落的小老太太，生着红里透白的面颊，从早到晚手脚不停闲，终生劬劳，把屋子收拾得井井有条，一尘不染。施特略夫的父亲是个瘦削的老人，因为终生劳动，两手骨节扭结，不言不语，诚实耿直。晚饭后他大声读着报纸，妻子和女儿（现在已经嫁给一个小渔船船长了）珍惜时间，埋头做针线活。文明日新月异，这个小城却好象被抛在后面，永远也不会发生什么事情，如此年复一年，直到死亡最后来临，象个老友似地给那些勤苦劳动一生的人带来永久的安息。