"I'vewritten over and over again. I didn't expect her to answer. I don't think shereads the letters. "

"You makeno account of feminine curiosity. Do you think she could resist?"

"She could-- mine. "

I looked at himquickly. He lowered his eyes. That answer of his seemed to me strangelyhumiliating. He was conscious that she regarded him with an indifference soprofound that the sight of his handwriting would have not the slightest effecton her.

"Do youreally believe that she'll ever come back to you?" I asked.

"I wanther to know that if the worst comes to the worst she can count on me. That'swhat I want you to tell her. "

I took a sheetof paper.

"What isit exactly you wish me to say?"

This is what Iwrote:

DEAR MRS.STROEVE, Dirk wishes me to tell you that if at any time you want him he will begrateful for the opportunity of being of service to you. He has no ill-feelingtowards you on account of anything that has happened. His love for you isunaltered. You will always find him at the following address:

“我已经写了不知多少封了。我早就想到她不会回信。我猜我写的那些信她根本就不看。”

“你没有把妇女的好奇心考虑在内。你认为她抵拒得了自己的好奇心吗？”

“她没有好奇心——对于我。”

我很快地看了他一眼。他垂下了眼皮。他的这句回答我听着有一种奇怪的自暴自弃的味道。他清楚地意识到她对他冷漠到极点，见到他的笔迹一丝一毫的反响也没有。

“你真的相信有一天她会回到你身边来吗？”我问道。

“我想叫她知道，万一有什么不幸的事情发生，她还是可以指望我的。我要让你写信告诉她的就是这一点。”

我拿出来一张信纸。

“你要说的具体是什么？”

下面是我写的信：

亲爱的施特略夫太太：

戴尔克让我告诉你，不论任何时候如果你要他做什么事，他将会非常感激你给他一个替你效劳的机会。对于已经发生的事，他对你并无嫌怨。他对你的爱情始终如一。你在下列地址随时可以和他取得联系。

Stroeve hadalways been excitable, but now he was beside himself; there was no reasoningwith him. I thought it probable enough that Blanche Stroeve would not continueto find life with Strickland tolerable, but one of the falsest of proverbs isthat you must lie on the bed that you have made. The experience of life showsthat people are constantly doing things which must lead to disaster, and yet bysome chance manage to evade the result of their folly. When Blanche quarrelledwith Strickland she had only to leave him, and her husband was waiting humblyto forgive and forget. I was not prepared to feel any great sympathy for her.

"You see,you don't love her, " said Stroeve.

"Afterall, there's nothing to prove that she is unhappy. For all we know they may havesettled down into a most domestic couple. "

Stroeve gave mea look with his woeful eyes.

"Of courseit doesn't much matter to you, but to me it's so serious, so intensely serious."

I was sorry ifI had seemed impatient or flippant.

"Will youdo something for me?" asked Stroeve.

"Willingly."

"Will youwrite to Blanche for me?"

"Why can'tyou write yourself?"

施特略夫一向就很容易激动，现在简直有些神经失常了。我根本无法同他讲道理。我认为很可能勃朗什·施特略夫已经发觉不可能再同思特里克兰德继续生活下去，但是人们经常说的那句俗话“自作自受”，实在是最没有道理的。生活的经验让我们看到的是，尽管人们不断地做一些必然招灾惹祸的事，但总能找个机会逃避掉这些蠢事带来的后果。当勃朗什同思特里克兰德吵了架以后，她只有离开他一条路好走，而她丈夫却在低声下气地等着，准备原谅她，把过去的事忘掉。我对勃朗什是不想寄予很大同情的。

“你知道，你是不喜欢她的。”施特略夫说。

“归根结底，现在还没有迹象说明她生活得不幸福。据我们所知道，说不定这两人已经象夫妻一样过起日子来了。”

施特略夫用他那对愁苦的眼睛瞪了我一眼。

“当然了，这对你是无所谓的，可是对我说，这件事很重要，极端重要。”

如果当时我的神色有些不耐烦，或者不够严肃，我是有点儿对不起施特略夫的。

“你愿意不愿意替我做一件事？”施特略夫问我。

“愿意。”

“你能不能替我给勃朗什写一封信？”

“你为什么自己不写呢？”

Two or threedays later Dirk Stroeve called on me.

"I hearyou've seen Blanche, " he said.

"How onearth did you find out?"

"I wastold by someone who saw you sitting with them. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thoughtit would only pain you. "

"What do Icare if it does? You must know that I want to hear the smallest thing abouther. "

I waited forhim to ask me questions.

"What doesshe look like?" he said.

"Absolutelyunchanged. "

"Does sheseem happy?"

I shrugged myshoulders.

"How can Itell? We were in a cafe; we were playing chess; I had no opportunity to speakto her. "

"Oh, butcouldn't you tell by her face?"

I shook myhead. I could only repeat that by no word, by no hinted gesture, had she givenan indication of her feelings. He must know better than I how great were herpowers of self-control. He clasped his hands emotionally.

"Oh, I'mso frightened. I know something is going to happen, something terrible, and Ican do nothing to stop it. "

"What sortof thing?" I asked.

"Oh, Idon't know, " he moaned, seizing his head with his hands. "I foreseesome terrible catastrophe. "

两三天以后，戴尔克·施特略夫来找我。

“听说你见到勃朗什了？”他说。

“你怎么会知道的？”

“有人看见你同他们坐在一起，告诉我了。你干嘛不告诉我？”

“我怕会使你痛苦。”

“使我痛苦又有什么关系？你必须知道，只要是她的事，哪怕最微不足道的，我也想知道。”

我等着他向我提问。

“她现在是什么样子？”他问。

“一点儿也没改变。”

“你看她的样子幸福吗？”

我耸了耸肩膀。

“我怎么知道？我们是在咖啡馆里，我在同思特里克兰德下棋。我没有机会同她谈话。”

“啊，但是你从她的面容看不出来吗？”

我摇了摇头。我只能把我想到的给他讲了一遍：她既没用话语也没用手势向我透露她的任何感情。他一定比我更了解，她自我克制的力量多么大。戴尔克感情激动地两手紧握在一起。

“啊，我非常害怕。我知道一定会发生一件事，一件可怕的事，可是我却没有办法阻止它。”

“会发生什么样儿的事？”我问道。

“啊，我也不知道，”他用两手把头抱住，呻吟道，“我预见到一件可怕的灾难。”

I was excitedby the encounter, and my fancy worked busily while I sought to concentratemyself on the game I was playing. I always tried my best to beat Strickland,because he was a player who despised the opponent he vanquished; his exultationin victory made defeat more difficult to bear. On the other hand, if he wasbeaten he took it with complete good-humour. He was a bad winner and a goodloser. Those who think that a man betrays his character nowhere more clearly thanwhen he is playing a game might on this draw subtle inferences.

When he hadfinished I called the waiter to pay for the drinks, and left them. The meetinghad been devoid of incident. No word had been said to give me anything to thinkabout, and any surmises I might make were unwarranted. I was intrigued. I couldnot tell how they were getting on. I would have given much to be a disembodiedspirit so that I could see them in the privacy of the studio and hear what theytalked about. I had not the smallest indication on which to let my imaginationwork.

这次与思特里克兰德和勃朗什不期而遇使我非常激动，勾起我无数奇思遐想。但是我还是拼命把精神集中在走棋上，使出全副本领，一定要把思特里克兰德击败。他非常看不起那些败在他手下的人；如果叫他取胜，他那种洋洋自得的样子简直叫你无地自容。但是在另一方面，如果他下输了，他倒也从来不发脾气。换言之，思特里克兰德只能输棋，不能赢棋。有人认为只有下棋的时候才能最清楚地观察一个人的性格，这倒是可以从思特里克兰德这人的例子取得一些微妙的推论。

下完棋以后，我把侍者叫来，付了酒账，便离开了他们。这次会面实在没有什么值得记述的地方，没有一句话可以使我追思、玩味，如果我有任何臆测，也毫无事实根据。但这反而更引起了我的好奇心。我实在摸不透这两人的关系。如果灵魂真能出窍的话，不论出什么代价我也得试一次；只有这样我才能在画室里看到他俩私下如何过活，才能听到他们交谈些什么。总之一句话，我没有可以供我的幻想力发挥作用的最小依据。

Blanche thenheld out her hand and bade me good-evening. I do not know why I had expectedher to be somehow changed; she wore the same gray dress that she wore so often,neat and becoming, and her brow was as candid, her eyes as untroubled, as whenI had been used to see her occupied with her household duties in the studio.

"Come andhave a game of chess, " said Strickland.

I do not knowwhy at the moment I could think of no excuse. I followed them rather sulkily tothe table at which Strickland always sat, and he called for the board and thechessmen. They both took the situation so much as a matter of course that Ifelt it absurd to do otherwise. Mrs. Stroeve watched the game with inscrutableface. She was silent, but she had always been silent. I looked at her mouth foran expression that could give me a clue to what she felt; I watched her eyesfor some tell-tale flash, some hint of dismay or bitterness; I scanned her browfor any passing line that might indicate a settling emotion. Her face was amask that told nothing. Her hands lay on her lap motionless, one in the otherloosely clasped. I knew from what I had heard that she was a woman of violent passions;and that injurious blow that she had given Dirk, the man who had loved her sodevotedly, betrayed a sudden temper and a horrid cruelty. She had abandoned thesafe shelter of her husband's protection and the comfortable ease of awell-provided establishment for what she could not but see was an extremehazard. It showed an eagerness for adventure, a readiness for thehand-to-mouth, which the care she took of her home and her love of goodhousewifery made not a little remarkable. She must be a woman of complicatedcharacter, and there was something dramatic in the contrast of that with herdemure appearance.

勃朗什这时伸出手来同我打招呼。不知道为什么我本来认为她的样子一定会发生一些变化，但是我现在看到她仍然是老样子：穿的是过去经常穿的一件灰衣服，前额光洁明净，眼睛里没有一丝忧虑和烦恼，正象我过去看到她在施特略夫画室里操持家务时一模一样。

“来下盘棋吧。”思特里克兰德说。

我不懂为什么当时我会没想出一个借口回绝了他。我怀着一肚子闷气跟在他们后面，走到思特里克兰德的老座位前边。他叫侍者取来了棋盘和棋子。他们两个人对这次不期而遇一点也没有大惊小怪，我自然也只能装出一副若无其事的样子，不然就显得我太不通人情了。施特略夫太太看着我们下棋，从她脸上的表情丝毫也猜不透她心里想的是什么。她什么话也没说，但她根本就不是爱说话的人。我看着她的嘴，希望看到一个能使我猜测出她真实感情的神态；我打量着她的眼睛，寻找某种泄露她内心隐秘的闪光，表示惶惑或者痛苦的眼神；我打量着她的前额，看那上面会不会偶然出现一个皱纹，告诉我她正在衰减的热情。但她的面孔宛如一副面具，我在那上面丝毫也看不出她的真实思想。她的双手一动不动地摆在膝头上，一只手松松地握着另一只。从我所听到的一些事，我知道她的性情很暴烈，戴尔克那么全心全意地爱着她，她却狠狠地打了他一巴掌，这说明了她翻脸无情，心肠非常冷酷。她抛弃了自己丈夫庇护下的安乐窝，抛弃了温饱舒适的优裕生活，甘愿承担她自己也看得非常分明的风险患难。这说明了她喜欢追求冒险，肯于忍饥耐劳；后一种性格从她过去辛勤操理家务、热心家庭主妇的职责看来倒也不足为奇。看来她一定是一个性格非常复杂的女人，这同她那端庄娴静的外表倒构成了极富于戏剧性的对比。

I did not seeStrickland for several weeks. I was disgusted with him, and if I had had anopportunity should have been glad to tell him so, but I saw no object inseeking him out for the purpose. I am a little shy of any assumption of moralindignation; there is always in it an element of self-satisfaction which makesit awkward to anyone who has a sense of humour. It requires a very livelypassion to steel me to my own ridicule. There was a sardonic sincerity inStrickland which made me sensitive to anything that might suggest a pose.

But one eveningwhen I was passing along the Avenue de Clichy in front of the cafe whichStrickland frequented and which I now avoided, I ran straight into him. He wasaccompanied by Blanche Stroeve, and they were just going to Strickland'sfavourite corner.

"Where thedevil have you been all this time?" said he. "I thought you must beaway. "

His cordialitywas proof that he knew I had no wish to speak to him. He was not a man withwhom it was worth while wasting politeness.

"No," I said; "I haven't been away. "

"Whyhaven't you been here?"

"There aremore cafes in Paris than one, at which to trifle away an idle hour. "

我有好几个星期没有见到思特里克兰德。我非常厌恶他，如果有机会的话，我会当着面把我对他的看法告诉他，但是我也犯不上为了这件事特地到处去找他。我不太愿意摆出一副义愤填膺的架势来，这里面总有某种自鸣得意的成分，会叫一个有幽默感的人觉得你在装腔作势。除非我真的动起火来，我是不肯让别人拿自己当笑话看的。思特里克兰德惯会讽刺挖苦、不讲情面，在他面前我就更要小心戒备，绝不能让他觉得我是在故作姿态。

但是一天晚上，正当我经过克利舍路一家咖啡馆门前的时候（我知道这是思特里克兰德经常来的一家咖啡馆，最近一段时间我总是尽量躲着这个地方），我却和思特里克兰德撞了个满怀。勃朗什·施特略夫同他在一起，两人正在走向思特里克兰德最喜欢坐的一个角落去。

“你这么多天跑到哪儿去了？”他问我说，“我还以为你到外地去了呢。”

他对我这样殷勤正表示他知道得很清楚，我不愿意理他。但是你对思特里克兰德这种人根本不需要讲客套。

“没有，”我直截了当地说，“我没有到外地去。”

“为什么老没到这儿来了？”

“巴黎的咖啡馆不是只此一家，在哪儿不能消磨时间啊？”

For all hispain, Dirk Stroeve remained a ridiculous object. He might have excited sympathyif he had grown worn and thin. He did nothing of the kind. He remained fat, andhis round, red cheeks shone like ripe apples. He had great neatness of person,and he continued to wear his spruce black coat and his bowler hat, always alittle too small for him, in a dapper, jaunty manner. He was getting somethingof a paunch, and sorrow had no effect on it. He looked more than ever like aprosperous bagman. It is hard that a man's exterior should tally so littlesometimes with his soul. Dirk Stroeve had the passion of Romeo in the body ofSir Toby Belch. He had a sweet and generous nature, and yet was alwaysblundering; a real feeling for what was beautiful and the capacity to createonly what was commonplace; a peculiar delicacy of sentiment and gross manners.He could exercise tact when dealing with the affairs of others, but none whendealing with his own. What a cruel practical joke old Nature played when sheflung so many contradictory  elementstogether, and left the man face to face with the perplexing callousness of theuniverse.

尽管在这样大的痛苦里，戴尔克·施特略夫的样子仍然让人看着发笑。如果他削瘦了、憔悴了，也许会引起人们同情的。但是他却一点儿也不见瘦。他仍然是肥肥胖胖的，通红的圆脸蛋象两只熟透了的苹果。他一向干净、利落，现在他还是穿着那件整整齐齐的黑外套，一顶略小一些的圆顶硬礼帽非常洒脱地顶在头上。他的肚子正在发胖，也一点儿没受这次伤心事的影响。他比以往任何时候都更象一个生意兴隆的商贩了。有时候一个人的外貌同他的灵魂这么不相称，这实在是一件苦不堪言的事。施特略夫就是这样：他心里有罗密欧的热情，却生就一副托比·培尔契爵士①的形体。他的禀性仁慈、慷慨，却不断闹出笑话来：他对美的东西从心眼里喜爱，但自己却只能创造出平庸的东西；他的感情非常细腻，但举止却很粗俗。他在处理别人的事务时很有手腕，但自己的事却弄得一团糟。大自然在创造这个人的时候，在他身上揉捏了这么多相互矛盾的特点，叫他面对着令他迷惑不解的冷酷人世，这是一个多么残忍的玩笑啊。

莎士比亚戏剧《第十二夜》中人物。

I beggedStroeve to behave more wisely. His want of spirit was exasperating.

"You'redoing no good at all by going on like this, " I said. "I think you'dhave been wiser if you'd hit her over the head with a stick. She wouldn't havedespised you as she does now. "

I suggestedthat he should go home for a while. He had often spoken to me of the silenttown, somewhere up in the north of Holland, where his parents still lived. Theywere poor people. His father was a carpenter, and they dwelt in a little oldred-brick house, neat and clean, by the side of a sluggish canal. The streetswere wide and empty; for two hundred years the place had been dying, but thehouses had the homely stateliness of their time. Rich merchants, sending theirwares to the distant Indies, had lived in them calm and prosperous lives, andin their decent decay they kept still an aroma of their splendid past. Youcould wander along the canal till you came to broad green fields, withwindmills here and there, in which cattle, black and white, grazed lazily. Ithought that among those surroundings, with their recollections of his boyhood,Dirk Stroeve would forget his unhappiness. But he would not go.

"I must behere when she needs me, " he repeated. "It would be dreadful ifsomething terrible happened and I were not at hand. "

"What doyou think is going to happen?" I asked.

"I don'tknow. But I'm afraid. "

I shrugged myshoulders.

我劝说施特略夫放聪明一些。他这样没有骨气叫旁观的人都气得要命。

“你这样下去一点也没有好处，”我说，“依我看，你更应该做的倒是劈头盖脸地揍她一顿，她就不会照现在这样看不起你了。”

我建议叫他回老家去住些天。他常常同我提到他的老家，荷兰北部某个地方的一个寂静的城镇，他的父母至今仍然住在那里。他们都是穷苦人，他父亲是个木匠。他家住在一幢古老的小红砖房里，干净、整齐，房子旁是一条水流徐缓的运河。那里的街道非常宽阔，寂静无人。两百年来，这个地方日渐荒凉、冷落，但是城镇里房屋却仍然保持着当年的朴实而雄伟的气象。富有的商人把货物发往遥远的东印度群岛去，在这些房子里安静地过着优裕的生活；如今这些人家虽已衰败，但仍然闪烁着往日繁华的余辉。你可以沿着运河徜徉，直到走上一片片宽广的绿色原野，黑白斑驳的牛只懒洋洋地在上面吃草。我想在这样一个充满童年回忆的环境里，戴尔克·施特略夫是可以忘掉他这次的不幸的。但是他却不要回去。

“我一定得留在这儿，她什么时候需要我就可以找到我，”他又重复他已经对我讲过的话。“如果发生了什么不好的事，我又不在她身边，那就太可怕了。”

“你想会发生什么事呢？”我问他。

“我不知道。但是我害怕。”

我耸了耸肩膀。

When herepeated to me the whole sordid little scene I was outraged. He had shownneither sense nor dignity. He had omitted nothing that could make his wifedespise him. There is no cruelty greater than a woman's to a man who loves herand whom she does not love; she has no kindness then, no tolerance even, shehas only an insane irritation. Blanche Stroeve stopped suddenly, and as hard asshe could slapped her husband's face. She took advantage of his confusion toescape, and ran up the stairs to the studio. No word had passed her lips.

When he told methis he put his hand to his cheek as though he still felt the smart of theblow, and in his eyes was a pain that was heartrending and an amazement thatwas ludicrous. He looked like an overblown schoolboy, and though I felt sosorry for him, I could hardly help laughing.

Then he took towalking along the street which she must pass through to get to the shops, andhe would stand at the corner, on the other side, as she went along. He darednot speak to her again, but sought to put into his round eyes the appeal thatwas in his heart. I suppose he had some idea that the sight of his misery wouldtouch her. She never made the smallest sign that she saw him. She never evenchanged the hour of her errands or sought an alternative route. I have an ideathat there was some cruelty in her indifference. Perhaps she got enjoyment outof the torture she inflicted. I wondered why she hated him so much.

当施特略夫对我回述这幕令人作呕的丑戏时，我真是气坏了。这个人真是又没有脑子、又失掉作丈夫的尊严。凡是叫他妻子鄙视的事，他一件没漏地都做出来了。女人对一个仍然爱着她、可是她已经不再爱的男人可以表现得比任何人都残忍；她对他不只不仁慈，而且根本不能容忍，她成了一团毫无理智的怒火。勃朗什·施特略夫倏地站住了，用尽全身力气在她丈夫脸上掴了一掌。趁他张皇失措的当儿，她急忙走开，三步并作两步地登上画室的楼梯。自始至终她一句话也没有说。

他一边给我讲这段故事，一边用手摸着脸，好象那火辣辣的痛劲儿到现在还没有过去似的。他的眼睛流露着痛苦而迷惘的神色，他的痛苦让人看着心酸，而他的迷惘又有些滑稽。他活脱儿是个挨了训的小学生；尽管我觉得他很可怜，却禁不住好笑。

这以后他就在勃朗什到商店买东西的必经之路上往返徘徊，当他见到勃朗什走过的时候，就在街对面墙角一站。他不敢再同她搭话了，只是用一对圆眼睛盯着她，尽量把心里的祈求和哀思用眼神表露出来。我猜想他可能认为勃朗什会被他的一副可怜相打动。但是她却从来没有任何看到他的表示。她甚至连买东西的时间也不改变，也从来不改变一下路线。我估计她这种冷漠含有某种残忍的成分，说不定她感到这样痛苦折磨他是一种乐趣。我真不懂她为什么对他这样恨之入骨。

Next day,though I pressed him to remain, Stroeve left me. I offered to fetch his thingsfrom the studio, but he insisted on going himself; I think he hoped they hadnot thought of getting them together, so that he would have an opportunity of seeinghis wife again and perhaps inducing her to come back to him. But he found histraps waiting for him in the porter's lodge, and the concierge told him thatBlanche had gone out. I do not think he resisted the temptation of giving heran account of his troubles. I found that he was telling them to everyone heknew; he expected sympathy, but only excited ridicule.

He bore himselfmost unbecomingly. Knowing at what time his wife did her shopping, one day,unable any longer to bear not seeing her, he waylaid her in the street. Shewould not speak to him, but he insisted on speaking to her. He spluttered outwords of apology for any wrong he had committed towards her; he told her heloved her devotedly and begged her to return to him. She would not answer; shewalked hurriedly, with averted face. I imagined him with his fat little legstrying to keep up with her. Panting a little in his haste, he told her howmiserable he was; he besought her to have mercy on him; he promised, if shewould forgive him, to do everything she wanted. He offered to take her for ajourney. He told her that Strickland would soon tire of her. 

第二天，虽然我尽力挽留，施特略夫还是走了。我建议我替他回家去取行李，但是他坚持要自己去。我想他可能希望他们并没有把他的东西收拾起来，这样他就有机会再见自己的妻子一面，说不定还能劝说她回到自己的身边来。但是事实并不象他所料想的那样，他的一些零星用品已经放在门房，等着他取走，而勃朗什，据看门人告诉他，已经出门走了。我想施特略夫如果有机会的话，是不会不把自己的苦恼向她倾诉一番的。我发现他不论碰到哪个相识的人都把自己的不幸遭遇唠叨给人家听；他希望别人同情他，但是却只引起人们的嘲笑。

他的行径很失体统。他知道他的妻子每天什么时候出去买东西，有一天，迫不及待地想见到她，便在街上把她拦住。虽然勃朗什不理他，他还是没完没了同她讲话。他为自己做的任何一件对不起她的事向她道歉，告诉她自己如何真心爱她，请求她再回到自己身边。勃朗什一句话也不回答，脸扭向一边，飞快地向前赶路，我想象得出施特略夫怎样迈动着一双小短腿，使劲在后面追赶的样子。他一边跑一边喘气，继续唠叨个没完。他告诉她自己如何痛苦，请求她可怜自己；他发誓赌咒，只要她能原谅他，他什么事都愿意替她做。他答应要带她去旅行。他告诉她思特里克兰德不久就会厌倦了她。