Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red gas-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud bright night with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight and turning my head to watch it. I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.

I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and far as I was from him I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.

一路上小旅馆房顶上和路边汽油站门前已经是一片盛夏景象，鲜红的加油机一台台蹲在电灯光圈里。我回到我在西卵的住处，把车停在小车棚之后，在院子里一架闲置的刈草机上坐了一会儿。风已经停了，眼前是一片嘈杂；明亮的夜景，有鸟雀在树上拍翅膀的声音，还有大地的风箱使青蛙鼓足了气力发出的连续不断的风琴声。一只猫的侧影在月光中慢慢地移动，我掉过头去看它的时候，发觉我不是一个人——五十英尺之外一个人已经从我邻居的大厦的阴影里走了出来，现在两手插在口袋里站在那里仰望银白的星光。从他那悠闲的动作和他那两脚稳踏在草坪上的姿态可以看出这就是盖茨比先生本人，出来确定一下我们本地的天空哪一片是属于他的。我打定了主意要招呼他。贝克小姐在吃饭时提到过他，那也可以算作介绍了。但我并没招呼他，因为他突然做了个动作，好像表示他满足于独自待着，——他朝着幽暗的海水把两只胳膊伸了出去，那样子真古怪，并且尽管我离他很远，我可以发誓他正在发抖。我也情不自禁地朝海上望去——什么都看不出来，除了一盏绿灯，又小又远，也许是一座码头的尽头。等我回头再去看盖茨比时，他已经不见了，于是我又独自待在不平静的黑夜里。