THE telegram lay on his mind all day: ordinary life - the two hours in court on a perjury1 case - had the unreality of a country one is leaving for ever. One thinks, At this hour, in that village, these people I once knew are sitting down at table just as they did a year ago ‘when I was there, but one is not convinced that any life goes on the same as ever outside the consciousness. All Scobie’s consciousness was on the telegram, on that nameless boat edging its way now up the African coastline from the south. God forgive me, he thought, when his mind lit for a moment on the possibility that it might never arrive. In our hearts men is a ruthless dictator, ready to contemplate2 the misery3 of a thousand strangers if it will ensure the happiness of the few we love.
At the end of the perjury case Fellowes, the notary4 Inspector5, caught him at the door. ‘Come to chop tonight, Scobie. We’ve got a bit of real Argentine beef.’ It was too much of an effort in this dream world to refuse an invitation. ‘Wilson’s coming,’ Fellowes said. ‘To tell you the truth, be helped us with the beef. You like him, don’t you?’
‘Yes. I thought it was you who didn’t’
‘Oh, the club’s got to move with the times, and all sorts of people go into trade nowadays. I admit I was hasty. Bit bound up, I wouldn’t be surprised. He was at Downham: we used to play them when I was at Lancing.’
Driving out to the familiar house he had once occupied himself on the hills, Scobie thought listlessly, I must speak to Helen soon. She mustn’t learn this from someone else. Life always repeated the same pattern; there was always, sooner or later, bad news that had to be broken, comforting lies to be uttered, pink gins to be consumed to keep misery away.
He came to the long bungalow6 living-room and there at the end of it was Helen. With a sense of shock he realized that never before had he seen her like a stranger in another man’s house, never before dressed for an evening’s party. ‘You know Mrs Rolt, don’t you?’ Fellowes asked. There was no irony7 in his voice. Scobie thought with a tremor8 of self-disgust, how clever we’ve been: how successfully we’ve deceived the gossipers of a small colony. It oughtn’t to be possible for lovers to deceive so well. Wasn’t love supposed to be spontaneous, reckless ...?
‘Yes,’ he said, I’m an old friend of Mrs Rolt. I was at Pende when she was brought across.’ He stood by the table a dozen feet away while Fellowes mixed the drinks and watched her while she talked to Mrs Fellowes, talked easily, naturally. Would I, he wondered, if I had come in tonight and seen her for the first time ever have felt any love at all?
‘Now which was yours, Mrs Rolt?’
‘A pink gin.’
‘I wish I could get my wife to drink them. I can’t bear her gin and orange.’
Scobie said, ‘If I’d known you were going to be here, I’d have called for you.’
‘I wish you had,’ Helen said. ‘You never come and see me.’ She turned to Fellowes and said with an ease that horrified9 him, ‘He was so kind to me in hospital at Pende, but I think he only likes the sick.’
Fellowes stroked his little ginger10 moustache, poured himself out some more gin and said, ‘He’s scared of you, Mrs Rolt. All we married men are.’
She said with false blandness11, ‘Do you think I could have one more without getting tight?’
‘Ah, here’s Wilson,’ Fellowes said, and there he was with his pink, innocent, self-distrustful face and his badly tied cummerbund. ‘You know everybody, don’t you? You and Mrs Rolt are neighbours.’
‘We haven’t met though,’ Wilson said, and began automatically to blush.
‘I don’t know what’s come over the men in this place,’ said Fellowes. ‘You and Scobie both neighbours and neither of you see anything of Mrs Rolt,’ and Scobie was immediately aware of Wilson’s gaze speculatively12 turned upon him. ‘I wouldn’t be so bashful,’ Fellowes said, pouring out the pink gins.
‘Dr Sykes late as usual,’ Mrs Fellowes commented from the end of the room but at that moment treading heavily up the outside stairs, sensible in a dark dress and mosquito-boots, came Dr Sykes. ‘Just in time for a drink, Jessie,’ Fellowes said. ‘What’s it to be?’
‘Double Scotch,’ Dr Sykes said. She glared around through her thick glasses and added, ‘Evening all.’
As they went in to dinner, Scobie said, ‘I’ve got to see you,’ but catching13 Wilson’s eye he added, ‘about your furniture.’
‘My furniture?’
‘I think I could get you some extra chairs.’ As conspirators14 they were much too young; they had not yet absorbed a whole code book into their memory and he was uncertain whether she had understood the mutilated phrase. All through dinner he sat silent, dreading15 the time when he would be alone with her, afraid to lose the least opportunity; when he put his hand in his pocket for a handkerchief the telegram crumpled16 in his fingers... have been a fool stop love.
‘Of course you know more about it than we do, Major Scobie,’ Dr Sykes said.
‘I’m sorry. I missed ...’
‘We were talking about the Pemberton case.’ So already in a few months it had become a case. When something became a case it no longer seemed to concern a human being: there was no shame or suffering in a case. The boy on the bed was cleaned and tidied, laid out for the test-book of psychology17.
‘I was saying,’ Wilson said, ‘that Pemberton chose an odd way to kill himself. I would have chosen a sleeping-draught18.’
‘It wouldn’t be easy to get a sleeping-draught in Bamba,’ Dr Sykes said. ‘It was probably a sudden decision.’
‘I wouldn’t have caused all that fuss,’ said Fellowes. ‘A chap’s got the right to take his own life, of course, but there’s no need for fuss. An overdose of sleeping-draught - I agree with Wilson - that’s the way.’
‘You still have to get your prescription,’ Dr Sykes said.
Scobie with his fingers on the telegram remembered the letter signed ‘Dicky’, the immature19 handwriting, the marks of cigarettes on the chairs, the novels of Wallace, the stigmata of loneliness. Through two thousand years, he thought, we have discussed Christ’s agony in just this disinterested20 way.
‘Pemberton was always a bit of a fool,’ Fellowes said.
‘A sleeping-draught is invariably tricky21,’ Dr Sykes said. Her big lenses reflected the electric globe as she turned them like a lighthouse in Scobie’s direction. ‘Your experience will tell you how tricky. Insurance companies never like sleeping-draughts, and no coroner could tend himself to a deliberate fraud.’
‘How can they tell ?’ Wilson asked.
‘Take luminal, for instance. Nobody could really take enough luminal by accident ...’ Scobie looked across the table at Helen. She ate slowly, without appetite, her eyes on her plate. Their silences seemed to isolate22 them: this was a subject the unhappy could never discuss impersonally23. Again he was aware of Wilson looking from one to another of them, and Scobie drew desperately24 at his mind for any phrase that would end their dangerous solitude25. They could not even be silent together with safety.
He said, ‘What’s the way out you’d recommend, Dr Sykes?’
‘Well, there are bathing accidents - but even they need a good deal of explanation. If a man’s brave enough to step in front of a car, but it’s too uncertain ...’
‘And involves somebody else,’ Scobie said. ‘Personally,’ Dr Sykes said, grinning under her glasses, ‘I should have no difficulties. In my position, I should classify myself as an angina case and then get one of my colleagues to prescribe.. .’
Helen said with sudden violence, ‘What a beastly talk this is. You’ve got no business to tell...’
‘My dear,’ Dr Sykes said, revolving26 her malevolent27 beams, ‘when you’ve been a doctor as long as I have been you know your company. I don’t think any of us are likely...’
Mrs Fellowes said, ‘Have another helping28 of fruit salad, Mrs Rolt.’
‘Are you a Catholic, Mrs Rolt?’ Fellowes asked. ‘Of course they take very strong views.’
‘No, I’m not a Catholic.’
‘But they do, don’t they, Scobie?’
‘We are taught,’ Scobie said, ‘that it’s the unforgivable sin.’
‘But do you really, seriously, Major Scobie,’ Dr Sykes asked, ‘believe in Hell?’
‘Oh yes, I do.’
‘Perhaps not quite that. They tell us it may be a permanent sense of loss.’
‘That sort of Hell wouldn’t worry me! Fellowes said.
‘Perhaps you’ve never lost anything of any importance,’ Scobie said.
The real object of the dinner-party had been the Argentine beef. With that consumed there was nothing to keep them together (Mrs Fellowes didn’t play cards). Fellowes busied himself about the beer, and Wilson was wedged between the sour silence of Mrs Fellowes and Dr Sykes’ garrulity30.
‘Let’s get a breath of air,’ Scobie suggested.
‘Wise?’
‘It would look odd if we didn’t,’ Scobie said.
‘Going to look at the stars?’ Fellowes called, pouring out the beer. ‘Making up for lost time, Scobie? Take your glasses
with you.’
They balanced their glasses on the rail of the verandah. Helen said, ‘I haven’t found your letter.’
‘Forget it’
‘Wasn’t that what you wanted to see me about?’
‘No.’
He could see the outline of her face against the sky doomed31 to go out as the rain clouds advanced. He said, ‘I’ve got bad news.’
‘Somebody knows?’
‘Oh no, nobody knows.’ He said, ‘Last night I had a telegram from my wife. She’s on the way home.’ One of the glasses fell from the rail and smashed in the yard.
The lips repeated bitterly the word ‘home’ as if that were the only word she had grasped. He said quickly, moving his hand along the rail and failing to reach her, ‘Her home. It will never by my home again.’
‘Oh yes, it will. Now it will be.’
He swore carefully, ‘I shall never again want any home without you.’ The rain clouds had reached the moon and her face went out like a candle in a sudden draught of wind. He had the sense that he was embarking32 now on a longer journey than he had ever intended. A light suddenly shone on both of them as a door opened. He said sharply, ‘Mind the blackout,’ and thought: at least we were not standing33 together, but how, how did our faces look? Wilson’s voice said, ‘We thought a fight was going on. We heard a glass break.’
‘Mrs Rolt lost all her beer.’
‘For God’s sake call me Helen,’ she said drearily34, ‘everybody else does, Major Scobie.’
‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘A scene of unbridled passion,’ Helen said. ‘It’s left me shaken. I want to go home.’
‘I’ll drive you down,’ Scobie said. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘I wouldn’t trust you, and anyway Dr Sykes is dying to talk to you about suicide. I won’t break up the party. Haven’t you got a car, Mr Wilson?’
‘Of course. I’d be delighted.’
‘You could always drive down and come straight back.’
‘I’m an early bird myself,’ Wilson said.
‘I’ll just go in then and say good night.’
When he saw her face again in the light, he thought: do I worry too much? Couldn’t this for her be just the end of an episode? He heard her saying to Mrs Fellowes, ‘The Argentine beef certainly was lovely.’
‘We’ve got Mr Wilson to thank for it’
The phrases went to and fro like shuttlecocks. Somebody laughed (it was Fellowes or Wilson) and said, ‘You’re right there,’ and Dr Sykes’ spectacles made a dot dash dot on the ceiling. He couldn’t watch the car move off without disturbing the black-out; he listened to the starter retching and retching, the racing35 of the engine, and then the slow decline to silence.
Dr Sykes said, ‘They should have kept Mrs Rolt in hospital a while longer.’
‘Why?’
‘Nerves. I could feel it when she shook hands.’
He waited another half an hour and then he drove home. As usual Ali was waiting for him, dozing36 uneasily on the kitchen step. He lit Scobie to the door with his torch. ‘Missus leave letter,’ he said, and took an envelope out of his shirt,
‘Why didn’t you leave it on my table?’
‘Massa in there.’
‘What massa?’ but by that time the door was open, and he saw Yusef stretched in a chair, asleep, breathing so gently that the hair lay motionless on his chest
‘I tell him go away,’ Ali said with contempt, ‘but he stay.’
‘That’s all right. Go to bed.’
He had a sense that life was closing in on him. Yusef had never been here since the night he came to inquire after Louise and to lay his trap for Tallit. Quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping man and bring that problem on his heels, he opened the note from Helen. She must have written it immediately she got home. He read, My darling, this is serius. I can’t say this to you, so I’m putting it on paper. Only I’ll give it to Ali. You trust Ali. When I heard your wife was coming back...
Yusef opened his eyes and said, ‘Excuse me, Major Scobie, for intruding37.’
‘Do you want a drink? Beer. Gin. My whisky’s finished.’
‘May I send you a case?’ Yusef began automatically and then laughed. ‘I always forget. I must not send you things.’
Scobie sat down at the table and laid the note open in front of him. Nothing could be so important as those next sentences. He said, ‘What do you want, Yusef?’ and read on. When I heard your wife was coming back, I was angry and bitter. It was stupid of me. Nothing is your fault.
‘Finish your reading, Major Scobie, I can wait.’
‘It isn’t really important,’ Scobie said, dragging his eyes from the large immature letters, the mistake in spelling. ‘Tell me what you want, Yusef,’ and back his eyes went to the letter. That’s why I’m writing. Because last night you made promises about not leaving me and I don’t want you ever to be bound to me with promises. My dear, all your promises...’
‘Major Scobie, when I lent you money, I swear, it was for friendship, just friendship. I never wanted to ask anything of you, anything at all, not even the four per cent. I wouldn’t even have asked for your friendship ... I was your friend .. ‘ this is very confusing, words are very complicated, Major Scobie.’
‘You’ve kept the bargain, Yusef. I don’t complain about Tallit’s cousin.’ He read on: belong to your wife. Nothing you say to me is a promise. Please, please remember that. If you never want to see me again, don’t write, don’t speak. And, dear, if you just want to see me sometimes, see me sometimes. I’ll tell any lies you like.
‘Do finish what you are reading, Major Scobie. Because what I have to speak about is very, very important.’
My dear, my dear, leave me If you want to or have me as your hore if you want to. He thought: she’s only heard the word, never seen it spelt: they cut it out of the school Shakesspeare [sic!]. Good night. Don’t worry, my darling. He said savagely38, ‘All right, Yusef. What is it that’s so important?’
‘Major Scobie, I have got after all to ask you a favour. It has nothing to do with the money I lent you. If you can do this for me it will be friendship, just friendship.’
‘It’s late, Yusef, tell me what it is.’
‘The Esperan?a will be in the day after tomorrow. I want a small packet taken on board for me and left with the captain.’
‘What’s in the packet?’
‘Major Scobie, don’t ask. I am your friend. I would rather have this be a secret. It will harm no one at all.’
‘Of course, Yusef, I can’t do it. You know that.’
‘I assure you, Major Scobie, on my word -’ he leant forward in the chair and laid his hand on the black fur of his chest - ‘on my word as a friend the package contains nothing, nothing for the Germans. No industrial diamonds, Major Scobie.’
‘Gem stones?’
‘Nothing for the Germans. Nothing that will hurt your country.’
‘Yusef, you can’t really believe that I’d agree?’
The light drill trousers squeezed to the edge of the chair: for one moment Scobie thought that Yusef was going on his knees to him. He said, ‘Major Scobie, I implore39 you ... It is important for you as well as for me.’ His voice broke with genuine emotion, ‘I want to be a friend.’
Scobie said, Td better warn you before you say any more, Yusef, that the Commissioner40 does know about our arrangement.’
‘I daresay, I daresay, but this is so much worse, Major Scobie, on my word of honour, this will do no harm to anyone. Just do this one act of friendship, and I’ll never ask another. Do it of your own free will. Major Scobie. There is no bribe41. I offer no bribe.’
His eye went back to the letter: My darling, this is serius. Serius - his eye this time read it as servus - a slave: a servant of the servants of God. It was like an unwise command which he had none the less to obey. He felt as though he were turning his back on peace for ever. With his eyes open, knowing the consequences, he entered the territory of lies without a passport for return.
‘What were you saying, Yusef? I didn’t catch...’
‘Just once more I ask you...’
‘No, Yusef.’
‘Major Scobie,’ Yusef said, sitting bolt upright in his chair, speaking with a sudden odd formality, as though a stranger had joined them and they were no longer alone, ‘you remember Pemberton?’
‘Of course.’
‘His boy came into my employ.’
‘Pemberton’s boy?’ Nothing you say to me is a promise.
‘Pemberton’s boy is Mrs Rolt’s boy.’
Scobie’s eyes remained on the letter, but he no longer read what he saw.
‘Her boy brought me a letter. You see I asked him to keep his eyes - bare - is that the right word?’
‘You have a very good knowledge of English, Yusef. Who read it to you?’
‘That does not matter.’
The formal voice suddenly stopped and the old Yusef implored42 again, ‘Oh, Major Scobie, what made you write such a letter? It was asking for trouble.’
‘One can’t be wise all the time, Yusef. One would die of disgust.’
‘You see it has put you in my hands.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that so much. But to put three people in your hands...’
‘If only you would have done an act of friendship...’
‘Go on, Yusef. You must complete your blackmail43. You can’t get away with half a threat.’
‘I wish I could dig a hole and put the package in it. But the war’s going badly, Major Scobie. I am doing this not for myself, but for my father and mother, my half brother, my three sisters - and there are cousins too/
‘Quite a family.’
‘You see if the English are beaten all my stores have no value at all.’
‘What do you propose to do with the letter, Yusef?’
‘I hear from a clerk in the cable company that your wife is on her way back. I will have the letter handed to her as soon as she lands.’
He remembered the telegram signed Louise Scobie: have been a fool stop love. It would be a cold welcome, he thought.
‘And if I give your package to the captain of the Esperan?a?’
‘My boy will be waiting on the wharf44. In return for the captain’s receipt he will give you an envelope with your letter inside.’
‘You trust your boy?’
‘Just as you trust Ali.’
‘Suppose I demand the letter first and gave you my word...’
‘It is the penalty of the blackmailer45, Major Scobie, that he has no debts of honour. You would be quite right to cheat me.’
‘Suppose you cheat me?’
‘That wouldn’t be right. And formerly46 I was your friend.’
‘You very nearly were,’ Scobie reluctantly admitted.
‘I am the base Indian.’
‘The base Indian?’
‘Who threw away a pearl,’ Yusef sadly said. ‘That was in the play by Shakespeare the Ordnance47 Corps48 gave in the Memorial Hall. I have always remembered it.’
2
‘Well,’ Druce said, ‘I’m afraid well have to get to work now.’
‘One more glass,’ the captain of the Esperan?a said. ‘Not if we are going to release you before the boom closes.
See you later, Scobie.’ When the door of the cabin closed the captain said breathlessly, ‘I am still here.’
‘So I see. I told you there are often mistakes - minutes go to the wrong place, files are lost.’
‘I believe none of that,’ the captain said. ‘I believe you helped me.’ He dripped gently with sweat in the stuffy49 cabin. He added, ‘I pray for you at Mass, and I have brought you this. It was all that I could find for you in Lobito. She is a very obscure saint,’ and he slid across the table between them a holy medal the size of a nickel piece. ‘Santa - I don’t remember her name. She had something to do with Angola I think,’ the captain explained.
‘Thank you,’ Scobie said. The package in his pocket seemed to him to weigh as heavily as a gun against his thigh50. He let the last drops of port settle in the well of his glass and then drained them. He said, ‘This time I have something for you.’ A terrible reluctance51 cramped52 his fingers.
‘For me?’
‘Yes.’
How light the little package actually was now that it was on the table between them. What had weighed like a gun in the pocket might now have contained little more than fifty cigarettes. He said, ‘Someone who comes on board with the pilot at Lisbon will ask you if you have any American cigarettes. You will give him this package.’
‘Is this Government business?’
‘No. The Government would never pay as well as this.’ He laid a packet of notes upon the table.
‘This surprises me,’ the captain said with an odd note of disappointment. ‘You have put yourself in my hands.’
‘You were in mine,’ Scobie said.
‘I don’t forget. Nor will my daughter. She is married outside the Church, but she has faith. She prays for you too.’
‘The prayers we pray then don’t count, surely?’
‘No, but when the moment of Grace returns they rise,’ the captain raised his fat arms in an absurd and touching53 gesture, ‘all at once together like a flock of birds.’
‘I shall be glad of them,’ Scobie said.
‘You can trust me, of course.’
‘Of course. Now I must search your cabin.’
‘You do not trust me very far.’
‘That package,’ Scobie said, ‘has nothing to do with the war.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am nearly sure.’
He began his search. Once, pausing by a mirror, he saw poised54 over his own shoulder a stranger’s face, a fat, sweating, unreliable face. Momentarily he wondered: who can that be? before he realized that it was only this new unfamiliar55 look of pity which made it strange to him. He thought: am I really one of those whom people pity?
收听单词发音 |
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perjury
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| n.伪证；伪证罪 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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isolate
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| vt.使孤立，隔离 | |
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impersonally
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| ad.非人称地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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garrulity
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| n.饶舌，多嘴 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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38
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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39
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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40
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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41
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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42
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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blackmailer
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| 敲诈者，勒索者 | |
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46
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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ordnance
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| n.大炮，军械 | |
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48
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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49
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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50
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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51
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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52
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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53
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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