To the lips, ah, of others,
Those lips have been prest,
And others, ere I was,
Were clasped to that breast . . .
—matthew arnold, “Parting” (1853)
The hansom drew up at a house in a narrow side street east of the Tottenham Court Road. Stepping quickly out of the vehicle, the girl went straight up some steps to a door and let herself in. The hansom driver was an old, old man, so long encased in his many-caped driving coat and his deep-banded top hat that it was hard to imagine they had not grown onto his body. Setting his whip in the stand beside his seat and taking his cutty out of his mouth, he held his grimed hand down, cupped, for the money. Meanwhile he stared straight ahead to the end of the dark street, as if he could not bear to set eyes on Charles again. Charles was glad not to be looked at; and yet felt quite as unspeakable as this ancient cab driver seemed determined1 to make him feel. He had a moment of doubt. He could spring back in, for the girl had disappeared ... but then a black obstinacy2 made him pay.
Charles found the prostitute waiting in a poorly lit hall-way, her back to him. She did not look round, but moved up the stairs as soon as she heard him close the door. There was a smell of cooking, obscure voices from the back of the house.
They went up two stale flights of stairs. She opened a door and held it for him to pass through; and when he had done so, slid a bolt across. Then she went and turned up the gaslights over the fire. She poked3 that to life and put some more coal on it. Charles looked round. Everything in the room except the bed was shabby, but spotlessly clean. The bed was of iron and brass4, the latter so well polished it seemed like gold. In the corner facing it there was a screen behind which he glimpsed a washstand. A few cheap orna-ments, some cheap prints on the walls. The frayed5 moreen curtains were drawn6. Nothing in the room suggested the luxurious7 purpose for which it was used.
“Pardon me, sir. If you’d make yourself at ‘ome. I shan’t be a minute.”
She went through another door into a room at the back of the house. It was in darkness, and he noticed that she closed the door after her very gently. He went and stood with his back to the fire. Through the closed door he heard the faint mutter of an awakened8 child, a shushing, a few low words. The door opened again and the prostitute reappeared. She had taken off her shawl and her hat. She smiled nervously9 at him.
“It’s my little gel, sir. She won’t make no noise. She’s good as gold.” Sensing his disapproval10, she hurried on. “There’s a chophouse just a step away, sir, if you’re ‘ungry.”
Charles was not; but nor did he now feel sexually hungry, either. He found it hard to look at her.
“Pray order for yourself what you want. I don’t ... that is ... some wine, perhaps, if it can be got.”
“French or German, sir?”
“A glass of hock—you like that?”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll send the lad out.”
And again she disappeared. He heard her call sharply, much less genteel, down the hall.
“’Arry!”
The murmur11 of voices, the front door slammed. When she
came back he asked if he should not have given her some money. But it seemed this service was included.
“Won’t you take the chair, sir?”
And she held out her hands for his hat and stick, which he still held. He handed them over, then parted the tails of his frock coat and sat by the fire. The coal she had put on seemed slow to burn. She knelt before it, and before him, and busied herself again with the poker12.
“They’re best quality, they didn’t ought to be so slow catchin’. It’s the cellar. Damp as old ‘ouses.”
He watched her profile in the red light from the fire. It was not a pretty face, but sturdy, placid13, unthinking. Her bust14 was well developed; her wrists and hands surprisingly delicate, almost fragile. They, and her abundant hair, mo-mentarily sparked off his desire. He almost put out his hand to touch her, but changed his mind. He would feel better when he had more wine. They remained so for a minute or more. At last she looked at him, and he smiled. For the first time that day he had a fleeting15 sense of peace.
She turned her eyes back to the fire then and murmured, “’E won’t be more’n a minute. It’s only two steps.”
And so they stayed in silence again. But such moments as these were very strange to a Victorian man; even between husband and wife the intimacy16 was largely governed by the iron laws of convention. Yet here Charles was, sitting at the fire of this woman he had not known existed an hour before, like ...
“The father of your little girl... ?”
“’E’s a sojjer, sir.”
“A soldier?”
She stared at the fire: memories.
“’E’s out in Hindia now.”
“Would he not marry you?”
She smiled at his innocence17, then shook her head. “’E gave me money for when I was brought to bed.” By which she seemed to suggest that he had done all one could decent-ly expect.
“And could you not find any other means of livelihood18?”
“There’s work. But it’s all day work. And then when I paid to look after little Mary . . .” she shrugged19. “Once you been done wrong to, you been done wrong to. Can’t be mended, so you ‘ave to make out as best you can.”
“And you believe this the best way?”
“I don’t know no other no more, sir.”
But she spoke20 without much sign of shame or regret. Her fate was determined, and she lacked the imagination to see it.
There were feet on the stairs. She rose and went to the door and opened it before the knock. Charles glimpsed a boy of thirteen or so outside, who had evidently been trained not to stare, since his eyes remained down while she herself carried the tray to a table by the window and then returned to the door with her purse. There was the chink of small coins, and the door softly closed. She poured him a glass of wine and brought it to him, setting the half-bottle on a trivet in the hearth21 beside him, as if all wine should be warmed. Then she sat and removed the cloth from the plate on the tray. Out of the corner of his eye Charles saw a small pie, potatoes, a tumbler of what was evidently gin and water, for she would hardly have had water alone brought up. His hock tasted acid, but he drank it in the hope that his senses would be dulled.
The small crackle from the now burning fire, the quiet hiss22 of the gas jets, the chink of cutlery: he could not see how they should ever pass to the real purpose of his presence. He drank another glass of the vinegary wine.
But she soon finished her repast. The tray was taken outside. Then she went back into the darkened bedroom where the little girl slept. A minute passed. She reappeared. Now she wore a white peignoir, which she held closed. Her hair was loosened and fell down her back; and her hand held the edges of the robe together sufficiently23 tightly to show she was naked beneath it. Charles rose.
“No ‘aste, sir. Finish your wine.”
He stared down at the bottle beside him, as if he had not noticed it before; then nodded and sat down again, and poured himself another glass. She moved in front of him and reached, her other hand still holding the peignoir together, to turn down the gas to two small green points. Firelight bathed her, softened24 her young features; and then again she knelt at his feet facing the fire. After a moment she reached out both hands to it and the robe fell a little open. He saw a white breast, shadowed, and not fully25 bared.
She spoke into the fire. “Would you like me to sit on your knees, sir?”
“Yes ... please do.”
He tossed off his wine. Clutching her robe together again she stood, then sat easily back across his braced26 legs, her right arm round his shoulders. His left arm he put round her waist, while his right lay, with an absurd unnaturalness27, along the low arm of the chair. For a moment her left hand clasped the fabric28 of her gown, but then she reached it out and caressed29 his cheek. A moment; she kissed his other cheek. Their eyes met. She glanced down at his mouth, as if shyly, but she went about her business without shyness.
“You’re a very ‘andsome gentleman.”
“You’re a pretty girl.”
“You like us wicked girls?”
He noted30 she had dropped the “sir.” He tightened31 his left arm a little.
She reached then and took his recalcitrant32 right hand and led it under her robe to her bare breast. He felt the stiff point of flesh in the center of his palm. Her hand drew his head to hers, and they kissed, as his hand, now recalling forbidden female flesh, silken and swollen33 contours, a poem forgotten, sized and approved the breast then slid deeper and lower inside her robe to the incurve of her waist. She was naked, and her mouth tasted faintly of onions.
Perhaps it was that which gave him his first wave of nausea34. He concealed35 it, becoming two people: one who had drunk too much and one who was now sexually excited. The robe fell shamelessly open over the girl’s slight belly36, the dark well of pubic hair, the white thighs37 that seduced38 him both by sight and pressure. His hand did not wander lower than her waist; but it wandered above, touching39 those open breasts, the neck, the shoulders. She made no advances after that first leading of his hand; she was his passive victim, her head resting on his shoulder, marble made warmth, an Etty nude40, the Pygmalion myth brought to a happy end. Another wave of nausea came over him. She sensed it, but misinterpreted.
“I’m too ‘eavy for you?”
“No ... that is ...”
“It’s a nice bed. Soft.”
She stood away from him, went to it and folded back the bedclothes carefully, then turned to look at him. She let the robe slip from her shoulders. She was well-formed, with shapely buttocks. A moment, then she sat and swung her legs under the bedclothes and lay back with her eyes closed, in what she transparently41 thought was a position both discreet42 and abandoned. A coal began to flicker43 brightly, casting intense but quavering shadows; a cage, the end-rails of the bed, danced on the wall behind her. Charles stood, fighting the battle in his stomach. It was the hock—he had been insane to drink it. He saw her eyes open and look at him. She hesitated, then reached out those delicate white arms. He made a gesture towards his frock coat.
After a few moments he felt a little better and began seriously to undress; he laid his clothes neatly44, much more neatly than he ever did in his own room, over the back of the chair. He had to sit to unbutton his boots. He stared into the fire as he took off his trousers and the undergarment, which reached, in the fashion of those days, somewhat below his knees. But his shirt he could not bring himself to remove. The nausea returned. He gripped the lace-fringed mantel-piece, his eyes closed, fighting for control.
This time she took his delay for shyness and threw back the bedclothes as if to come and lead him to bed. He forced himself to walk towards her. She sank back again, but with-out covering her body. He stood by the bed and stared down at her. She reached out her arms. He still stared, conscious only of the swimming sensation in his head, the now totally rebellious45 fumes46 of the milk punch, champagne47, claret, port, that damnable hock...
“I don’t know your name.”
She smiled up at him, then reached for his hands and pulled him down towards her.
“Sarah, sir.”
He was racked by an intolerable spasm48. Twisting sideways he began to vomit49 into the pillow beside her shocked, flungback head.
收听单词发音 |
1
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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8
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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12
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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17
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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20
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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21
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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23
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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24
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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25
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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27
unnaturalness
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28
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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29
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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31
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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32
recalcitrant
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| adj.倔强的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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38
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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39
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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40
nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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41
transparently
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| 明亮地，显然地，易觉察地 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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45
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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46
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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47
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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48
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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49
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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