He was a bit early. There had been no difficulties about the journey, and the girl was so evidently experienced that he was less frightened than he would normally have been. Presumably she could be trusted to find a safe place. In general you could not assume that you were much safer in the country than in London. There were no telescreens, of course, but there was always the danger of concealed7 microphones by which your voice might be picked up and recognized; besides, it was not easy to make a journey by yourself without attracting attention. For distances of less than 100 kilometres it was not necessary to get your passport endorsed8, but sometimes there were patrols hanging about the railway stations, who examined the papers of any Party member they found there and asked awkward questions. However, no patrols had appeared, and on the walk from the station he had made sure by cautious backward glances that he was not being followed. The train was full of proles, in holiday mood because of the summery weather. The wooden-seated carriage in which he travelled was filled to overflowing9 by a single enormous family, ranging from a toothless great-grandmother to a month-old baby, going out to spend an afternoon with 'in-laws' in the country, and, as they freely explained to Winston, to get hold of a little blackmarket butter.
The lane widened, and in a minute he came to the footpath10 she had told him of, a mere11 cattle-track which plunged12 between the bushes. He had no watch, but it could not be fifteen yet. The bluebells were so thick underfoot that it was impossible not to tread on them. He knelt down and began picking some partly to pass the time away, but also from a vague idea that he would like to have a bunch of flowers to offer to the girl when they met. He had got together a big bunch and was smelling their faint sickly scent13 when a sound at his back froze him, the unmistakable crackle of a foot on twigs14. He went on picking bluebells. It was the best thing to do. It might be the girl, or he might have been followed after all. To look round was to show guilt15. He picked another and another. A hand fell lightly on his shoulder.
He looked up. It was the girl. She shook her head, evidently as a warning that he must keep silent, then parted the bushes and quickly led the way along the narrow track into the wood. Obviously she had been that way before, for she dodged16 the boggy17 bits as though by habit. Winston followed, still clasping his bunch of flowers. His first feeling was relief, but as he watched the strong slender body moving in front of him, with the scarlet18 sash that was just tight enough to bring out the curve of her hips19, the sense of his own inferiority was heavy upon him. Even now it seemed quite likely that when she turned round and looked at him she would draw back after all. The sweetness of the air and the greenness of the leaves daunted20 him. Already on the walk from the station the May sunshine had made him feel dirty and etiolated, a creature of indoors, with the sooty dust of London in the pores of his skin. It occurred to him that till now she had probably never seen him in broad daylight in the open. They came to the fallen tree that she had spoken of. The girl hopped21 over and forced apart the bushes, in which there did not seem to be an opening. When Winston followed her, he found that they were in a natural clearing, a tiny grassy22 knoll23 surrounded by tall saplings that shut it in completely. The girl stopped and turned.
'Here we are,' she said.
He was facing her at several paces' distance. As yet he did not dare move nearer to her.
'I didn't want to say anything in the lane,' she went on, 'in case there's a mike hidden there. I don't suppose there is, but there could be. There's always the chance of one of those swine recognizing your voice. We're all right here.'
He still had not the courage to approach her. 'We're all right here?' he repeated stupidly.
'Yes. Look at the trees.' They were small ashes, which at some time had been cut down and had sprouted24 up again into a forest of poles, none of them thicker than one's wrist. 'There's nothing big enough to hide a mike in. Besides, I've been here before.'
They were only making conversation. He had managed to move closer to her now. She stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that looked faintly ironical25, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to act. The bluebells had cascaded26 on to the ground. They seemed to have fallen of their own accord. He took her hand.
'Would you believe,' he said, 'that till this moment I didn't know what colour your eyes were?' They were brown, he noted27, a rather light shade of brown, with dark lashes28. 'Now that you've seen what I'm really like, can you still bear to look at me?'
'Yes, easily.'
'I'm thirty-nine years old. I've got a wife that I can't get rid of. I've got varicose veins29. I've got five false teeth.'
'I couldn't care less,' said the girl.
The next moment, it was hard to say by whose act, she was in his his arms. At the beginning he had no feeling except sheer incredulity. The youthful body was strained against his own, the mass of dark hair was against his face, and yes! actually she had turned her face up and he was kissing the wide red mouth. She had clasped her arms about his neck, she was calling him darling, precious one, loved one. He had pulled her down on to the ground, she was utterly30 unresisting, he could do what he liked with her. But the truth was that he had no physical sensation, except that of mere contact. All he felt was incredulity and pride. He was glad that this was happening, but he had no physical desire. It was too soon, her youth and prettiness had frightened him, he was too much used to living without women -- he did not know the reason. The girl picked herself up and pulled a bluebell5 out of her hair. She sat against him, putting her arm round his waist.
'Never mind, dear. There's no hurry. We've got the whole afternoon. Isn't this a splendid hide-out? I found it when I got lost once on a community hike. If anyone was coming you could hear them a hundred metres away.'
'What is your name?' said Winston.
'Julia. I know yours. It's Winston -- Winston Smith.'
'How did you find that out?'
'I expect I'm better at finding things out than you are, dear. Tell me, what did you think of me before that day I gave you the note?'
He did not feel any temptation to tell lies to her. It was even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.
'I hated the sight of you,' he said. 'I wanted to rape31 you and then murder you afterwards. Two weeks ago I thought seriously of smashing your head in with a cobblestone. If you really want to know, I imagined that you had something to do with the Thought Police.'
The girl laughed delightedly, evidently taking this as a tribute to the excellence32 of her disguise.
'Not the Thought Police! You didn't honestly think that?'
'Well, perhaps not exactly that. But from your general appearance -- merely because you're young and fresh and healthy, you understand -- I thought that probably-'
'You thought I was a good Party member. Pure in word and deed. Banners, processions, slogans, games, community hikes all that stuff. And you thought that if I had a quarter of a chance I'd denounce you as a thought-criminal and get you killed off?'
'Yes, something of that kind. A great many young girls are like that, you know.'
'It's this bloody33 thing that does it,' she said, ripping off the scarlet sash of the Junior Anti-Sex League and flinging it on to a bough1. Then, as though touching34 her waist had reminded her of something, she felt in the pocket of her overalls35 and produced a small slab36 of chocolate. She broke it in half and gave one of the pieces to Winston. Even before he had taken it he knew by the smell that it was very unusual chocolate. It was dark and shiny, and was wrapped in silver paper. Chocolate normally was dullbrown crumbly stuff that tasted, as nearly as one could describe it, like the smoke of a rubbish fire. But at some time or another he had tasted chocolate like the piece she had given him. The first whiff of its scent had stirred up some memory which he could not pin down, but which was powerful and troubling.
'Where did you get this stuff?' he said.
'Black market,' she said indifferently. 'Actually I am that sort of girl, to look at. I'm good at games. I was a troop-leader in the Spies. I do voluntary work three evenings a week for the Junior Anti-Sex League. Hours and hours I've spent pasting their bloody rot all over London. I always carry one end of a banner in the processions. I always Iook cheerful and I never shirk anything. Always yell with the crowd, that's what I say. It's the only way to be safe.'
The first fragment of chocolate had meIted on Winston's tongue. The taste was delightful37. But there was still that memory moving round the edges of his consciousness, something strongly felt but not reducible to definite shape, like an object seen out of the corner of one's eye. He pushed it away from him, aware only that it was the memory of some action which he would have liked to undo38 but could not.
'You are very young,' he said. 'You are ten or fifteen years younger than I am. What could you see to attract you in a man like me?'
'It was something in your face. I thought I'd take a chance. I'm good at spotting people who don't belong. As soon as I saw you I knew you were against them.'
Them, it appeared, meant the Party, and above all the Inner Party, about whom she talked with an open jeering39 hatred40 which made Winston feel uneasy, although he knew that they were safe here if they could be safe anywhere. A thing that astonished him about her was the coarseness of her language. Party members were supposed not to swear, and Winston himself very seldom did swear, aloud, at any rate. Julia, however, seemed unable to mention the Party, and especially the Inner Party, without using the kind of words that you saw chalked up in dripping alley-ways. He did not dislike it. It was merely one symptom of her revolt against the Party and all its ways, and somehow it seemed natural and healthy, like the sneeze of a horse that smells bad hay. They had left the clearing and were wandering again through the chequered shade, with their arms round each other's waists whenever it was wide enough to walk two abreast41. He noticed how much softer her waist seemed to feel now that the sash was gone. They did not speak above a whisper. Outside the clearing, Julia said, it was better to go quietly. Presently they had reached the edge of the little wood. She stopped him.
'Don't go out into the open. There might be someone watching. We're all right if we keep behind the boughs.'
They were standing42 in the shade of hazel bushes. The sunlight, filtering through innumerable leaves, was still hot on their faces. Winston looked out into the field beyond, and underwent a curious, slow shock of recognition. He knew it by sight. An old, close-bitten pasture, with a footpath wandering across it and a molehill here and there. In the ragged43 hedge on the opposite side the boughs of the elm trees swayed just perceptibly in the breeze, and their leaves stirred faintly in dense44 masses like women's hair. Surely somewhere nearby, but out of sight, there must be a stream with green pools where dace were swimming?
'Isn't there a stream somewhere near here?' he whispered.
'That's right, there is a stream. It's at the edge of the next field, actually. There are fish in it, great big ones. You can watch them lying in the pools under the willow45 trees, waving their tails.'
'It's the Golden Country -- almost,' he murmured.
'The Golden Country?'
'It's nothing, really. A landscape I've seen sometimes in a dream.'
'Look!' whispered Julia.
A thrush had alighted on a bough not five metres away, almost at the level of their faces. Perhaps it had not seen them. It was in the sun, they in the shade. It spread out its wings, fitted them carefully into place again, ducked its head for a moment, as though making a sort of obeisance46 to the sun, and then began to pour forth47 a torrent48 of song. In the afternoon hush49 the volume of sound was startling. Winston and Julia clung together, fascinated. The music went on and on, minute after minute, with astonishing variations, never once repeating itself, almost as though the bird were deliberately50 showing off its virtuosity51. Sometimes it stopped for a few seconds, spread out and resettled its wings, then swelled52 its speckled breast and again burst into song. Winston watched it with a sort of vague reverence53. For whom, for what, was that bird singing? No mate, no rival was watching it. What made it sit at the edge of the lonely wood and pour its music into nothingness? He wondered whether after all there was a microphone hidden somewhere near. He and Julia had spoken only in low whispers, and it would not pick up what they had said, but it would pick up the thrush. Perhaps at the other end of the instrument some small, beetle-like man was listening intently -- listening to that. But by degrees the flood of music drove all speculations54 out of his mind. It was as though it were a kind of liquid stuff that poured all over him and got mixed up with the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He stopped thinking and merely felt. The girl's waist in the bend of his arm was soft and warm. He pulled her round so that they were breast to breast; her body seemed to melt into his. Wherever his hands moved it was all as yielding as water. Their mouths clung together; it was quite different from the hard kisses they had exchanged earlier. When they moved their faces apart again both of them sighed deeply. The bird took fright and fled with a clatter55 of wings.
Winston put his lips against her ear. 'Now,' he whispered.
'Not here,' she whispered back. 'Come back to the hide-out. It's safer.'
Quickly, with an occasional crackle of twigs, they threaded their way back to the clearing. When they were once inside the ring of saplings she turned and faced him. They were both breathing fast, but the smile had reappeared round the corners of her mouth. She stood looking at him for an instant, then felt at the zipper56 of her overalls. And, yes! it was almost as in his dream. Almost as swiftly as he had imagined it, she had torn her clothes off, and when she flung them aside it was with that same magnificent gesture by which a whole civilization seemed to be annihilated57. Her body gleamed white in the sun. But for a moment he did not look at her body; his eyes were anchored by the freckled58 face with its faint, bold smile. He knelt down before her and took her hands in his.
'Have you done this before?'
'Of course. Hundreds of times -- well scores of times anyway.'
'With Party members.'
'Yes, always with Party members.'
'With members of the Inner Party?'
'Not with those swine, no. But there's plenty that would if they got half a chance. They're not so holy as they make out.'
His heart leapt. Scores of times she had done it: he wished it had been hundreds -- thousands. Anything that hinted at corruption59 always filled him with a wild hope. Who knew, perhaps the Party was rotten under the surface, its cult6 of strenuousness61 and self-denial simply a sham62 concealing63 iniquity64. If he could have infected the whole lot of them with leprosy or syphilis, how gladly he would have done so! Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine! He pulled her down so that they were kneeling face to face.
'Listen. The more men you've had, the more I love you. Do you understand that?'
'Yes, perfectly65.'
'I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don't want any virtue66 to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt60 to the bones.'
'Well then, I ought to suit you, dear. I'm corrupt to the bones.'
'You like doing this? I don't mean simply me: I mean the thing in itself?'
'I adore it.'
That was above all what he wanted to hear. Not merely the love of one person but the animal instinct, the simple undifferentiated desire: that was the force that would tear the Party to pieces. He pressed her down upon the grass, among the fallen bluebells. This time there was no difficulty. Presently the rising and falling of their breasts slowed to normal speed, and in a sort of pleasant helplessness they fell apart. The sun seemed to have grown hotter. They were both sleepy. He reached out for the discarded overalls and pulled them partly over her. Almost immediately they fell asleep and slept for about half an hour.
Winston woke first. He sat up and watched the freckled face, still peacefully asleep, pillowed on the palm of her hand. Except for her mouth, you could not call her beautiful. There was a line or two round the eyes, if you looked closely. The short dark hair was extraordinarily67 thick and soft. It occurred to him that he still did not know her surname or where she lived.
The young, strong body, now helpless in sleep, awoke in him a pitying, protecting feeling. But the mindless tenderness that he had felt under the hazel tree, while the thrush was singing, had not quite come back. He pulled the overalls aside and studied her smooth white flank. In the old days, he thought, a man looked at a girl's body and saw that it was desirable, and that was the end of the story. But you could not have pure love or pure lust68 nowadays. No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax69 a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act.
温斯顿从稀疏的树荫中穿过那条小路，在树枝分开的地方，就映入了金黄色的阳光。在左边的树下，地面白茫茫地长着风信子。空气润湿，好象在轻轻地吻着皮肤。这是五月的第二天。从树林深处传来了斑鸠的嘤鸣。
他来得稍为早了一些。一路上没有遇到什么困难，那个姑娘显然很有经验，使他不象平时那么害怕。大概可以信赖她能找到一个安全的地方。一般的来说，你不能想当然地以为在乡下一定比在伦敦更加安全。不错，在乡下没有电幕，但是总有碰上窃听器的危险，把你的说话声录下来；此外，一个人出门要不引起注意不是一件容易的事。一百公里之内，不需要拿你的通行证去申请许可，但是有时火车站附近有巡逻队，要检查在那里碰到的党员的身份证，询问一些使人为难的问题。但是那天没有碰到巡逻队，在出车站以后，他一路上不时回头看，确信没有人钉他的梢。火车上尽是无产者，因为天气和暖，个个都高高兴兴的。他搭的硬座车厢坐满了一个大家庭，从老掉了牙的老奶奶到才满月的婴孩，他们是到乡下亲戚家中去串门，弄一些黑市黄油，他们很坦率地这么告诉温斯顿。
这条路慢慢地开阔起来，不久他就到了她告诉他的那条小径上了，那是牛群在灌木丛中踩踏出来的。他没有带表，但是知道还不到十五点。脚下到处是风信子，要不踩在上面是办不到的。他蹲了下来，摘了一些，一半是消遣时间，但是也模模糊糊地想到要在同那姑娘见面时献给她一束花。他摘了很大的一束，正在嗅着它的一股不好闻的淡淡的香味时，忽然听到背后有人踩踏枯枝的脚步声，不禁吓得动弹不得。
他没有别的办法，只好继续摘花。很可能就是那姑娘，但也可能还是有人钉上了他。回过头去看就是做贼心虚。他一朵又一朵地摘着。这时有一只手轻轻地落到了他的肩上。
他抬头一看，原来是那姑娘。她摇摇头，显然是警告他不要出声，然后拨开树校，沿着那条狭狭的小径，很快地引着路走到树林深处去。显然她以前去过那里，因为她躲闪坑坑洼洼非常熟练，好象出于习惯一样。温斯顿跟在后面，手中仍紧握着那束花。他的第一个感觉是感到放心，但是他看着前面那个苗条健康的身子，上面束着那条猩红的腰带，宽紧适当，露出了她的臀部的曲线，他就沉重地感到了自惭形秽。即使事到如今，她回头一看，仍很可能就此打退堂鼓。
甜美的空气和葱翠的树叶使他感到气馁。在从车站出来的路上，五月的阳光已经使他感到了全身肮脏，脸色苍白，完全是个过惯室内生活的人，皮肤上的每一个毛孔里都嵌满了伦敦的煤烟尘土。他想到至今为止她大概从来还没有在光天化日之下见到过他。他们到了她说到过的那根枯木的旁边，她一跃过去，在一片密密麻麻的灌木丛中拨开树枝，温斯顿跟着她走到一个天然的小空地，那块小小的多草的土墩周围都是高高的幼树，把它严密地遮了起来。那姑娘停了步，回过身来说：
“咱们到了。”
他面对着她，相距只有几步远。但是他仍不敢向她靠近。
“我在路上不想说什么话，”她继续说，“万一什么地方藏着话筒。我想不至于，但仍有可能性。他们那些畜生总可能有一个认出你的声音来。这里就没事了。”
他仍没有勇气靠近她。“这里就没事了？”他愚蠢地重复说。
“是的。你瞧这些树。”这些树都是小榛树，从前给砍伐过，后来又长了新苗，都是细长的干儿，没有一棵比手腕还粗。“没有一棵大得可以藏话筒。再说，我以前来过这里。”
他们只是在没话找话说。他已经想法走近了她一些。她挺着腰站在他前面，脸上的笑容隐隐有股嘲笑的味道，好象在问他为什么迟缓地不动手。风信子掉到了地上，好象是自己掉下来似的。他握住她的手。
“你能相信吗，”他说，“到现在为止我还不知道你眼睛的颜色？”他注意到它们是棕色的，一种比较淡的棕色，睫毛却很浓。
“现在你既然已经看清了我，你还能多看一眼吗？”
“能。很容易。”他又说，“我三十九岁，有个摆脱不了的妻子。我患静脉曲张，有五个假牙。”
“我都不在乎，”那姑娘说。
接着，也很难说究竟是谁主动，她已在他的怀里了。起初，他除了感到完全不可相信之外，没有任何感觉。那个年轻的身躯靠在他的身上有些紧张，一头黑发贴在他的脸上，说真的，她真的抬起了脸，他开始吻她红润的宽阔的嘴。她的双臂楼紧了他的脖子，轻轻地叫他亲爱的，宝贝，心肝儿。
他把她拉到地上，她一点也不抗拒，听任他的摆布，他要怎么样就怎么样。但是实际情况却是，肌肤的相亲，并没有使他感到肉体上的刺激。他所感到的仅仅是不可相信和骄傲。
他很高兴，终于发生了这件事情，但是他没有肉体上的欲望。事情来得太快了，她的年轻，她的美丽，使他害怕，他已习惯过没有女人的生活——他也不知道什么缘故。那个姑娘坐了起来，从头发里捡出一朵风信子。她靠着他坐着，伸手搂住他的腰。
“没有关系，亲爱的，不用急。整个下午都是咱们的。这地方很隐蔽，是不是？有一次集体远足我迷了路才发现的。
要是有人过来，一百公尺以外就可以听到。”
“你叫什么名字？”温斯顿问。
“裘莉亚。我知道你叫什么。温斯顿——温斯顿史密斯。”
“你怎么打听到的？”
“我想打听这种事情我比你有能耐，亲爱的。告诉我，在那天我递给你条子以前，你对我有什么看法？”
他没有想到要对她说谎话。一开始就把最坏的想法告诉她，这甚至也是爱的表示。
“我一见你就恨你，”他说。“我想强奸你，然后再杀死你。两个星期以前，我真的想在地上捡起一块石头打破你的脑袋。要是你真的想知道，我以为你同思想警察有联系。”
那姑娘高兴地大笑起来，显然认为这是对她伪装巧妙的恭维。“思想警察！你真的那么想吗？”
“嗳，也许不完全是这么想。但是从你的外表来看，你知道，就只是因为你又年轻，又肉感，又健康，我想，也许——”“你想我是个好党员。言行纯洁。旗帜、游行、口号、比赛、集体郊游——老是搞这样的事情。你想我一有机会就会揭发你是思想犯，把你于掉？”
“是的，几乎是那样。好多好多年青的姑娘都是那样，这个你也知道。”
“全赖这捞什子，”她一边说，一边把少年反性同盟的猩红色腰带扯了下来，扔在一根树枝上。接着，她想起了一件事情，从外衣口袋里掏出一小块巧克力来，一掰成两块，给了温斯顿一块。他没有吃就从香味中知道这是一种很不常见的巧克力，颜色很深，晶晶发亮，用银纸包着。一般的巧克力都是暗棕色的，吃起来象垃圾堆烧出来的烟味，这是最相近的形容。但是有的时候，他也吃到过象她给他的那种巧克力。第一阵闻到的香味勾起了他的模糊记忆，但是记不清是什么了，尽管这感觉很强烈，久久不去。
“你从哪儿搞到这玩艺儿的？”他问。
“黑市，”她毫不在乎地说。“你瞧，我实际上就是那种女人。我擅长玩把戏。在少年侦察队里我做过队长。每星期三个晚上给少年反性同盟做义务活动。我没完没了地在伦敦到处张贴他们的胡说八道的宣传品。游行的时候我总是举大旗。我总是面带笑容，做事从来不退缩。总是跟着大伙儿一起喊。这是保护自己的唯一办法。”
温斯顿舌尖上的第一口巧克力已经融化，味道很好。但是那个模糊的记忆仍在他的意识的边缘上徘徊，一种你很明显地感觉到，但是却又确定不了是什么具体形状的东西，好象你从眼角上看到的东西。他把它撇开在一旁，只知道这是使他很后悔而又无法挽救的一件事的记忆。
“你很年轻，”他说。“你比我小十几岁。象我这样一个人，你看中什么？”
“那是你脸上有什么东西吸引了我。我决定冒一下险。
我很能发现谁是不属于他们的人。我一看到你，我就知道你反对他们(them)。”
他们(Them)，看来是指党，尤其是指核心党，她说起来用公开的讥嘲的口气，这种仇恨的情绪使温斯顿感到不安，尽管他知道如果有什么地方是安全的话，他们现在呆的地方肯定是安全的。她身上有一件事使他感到很惊讶，那就是她满嘴粗话。党员照说不能说骂人的话，温斯顿自己很少说骂人的话，至少不是高声说。但是裘莉亚却似乎一提到党，特别是核心党，就非得用小胡同里墙上粉笔涂抹的那种话不可。他并不是不喜欢。这不过是她反对党和党的一切做法的一种表现而已，而且似乎有点自然健康，象一头马嗅到了烂草打喷嚏一样。他们已经离开了那个空地，又在稀疏的树荫下走回去，只要小径够宽可以并肩走，就互相搂着腰。他觉得去了腰带以后，她的腰身现在柔软多了。他们说话很低声。裘莉亚说，出了那块小空地，最好不出声。他们不久就到了小树林的边上。她叫他停了步。
“别出去。外面可能有人看着。我们躲在树枝背后就没事。”
他们站在榛树荫里。阳光透过无数的树叶照在他们的脸上仍是热的。温斯顿向远处田野望去，发现这个地方是他认识的，不禁觉得十分惊异。他一眼就知道了。这是一个古老的牧场，草给啃得低低的，中间弯弯曲曲地有一条小径，到处有鼹鼠洞。在对面高高矮矮的灌木丛里，可以看到榆树枝在微风中摇摆，树叶象女人的头发一样细细地飘动。尽管看不到，肯定在附近什么地方，有一条溪流，绿水潭中有鲤鱼在游泳。
“这里附近是不是有条小溪？”他轻轻问道。
“是啊，有一条小溪。在那边那块田野的边上。里面有鱼，很大的鱼。你可以看到它们在柳树下面的水潭里浮沉，摆动着尾巴。”“那是黄金乡——就是黄金乡，”他喃喃地说。
“黄金乡？”
“没什么，亲爱的。那是我有时在梦中见到的景色。”
“瞧！”裘莉亚轻声叫道。
一只乌鸦停在不到五公尺远的一根高度几乎同他们的脸一般齐的树枝上。也许它没有看到他们。它是在阳光中，他们是在树荫里。它展开翅膀，又小心地收了起来，把头低了一会儿，好象向太阳致敬，接着就开始唱起来，嘤鸣不绝。
在下午的寂静中，它的音量是很惊人的。温斯顿和裘莉亚紧紧地挨在一起，听得入了迷。这样一分钟接着一分钟，那只乌鸫鸣叫不已，变化多端，从来没有前后重复的时候，好象是有心表现它的精湛技艺。有时候它也暂停片刻，舒展一下翅翼，然后又收敛起来，挺起色斑点点的胸脯，又放怀高唱。温斯顿怀着一种崇敬的心情看着。那只鸟是在为谁，为什么歌唱？并没有配偶或者情敌在听它。它为什么要栖身在这个孤寂的树林的边上兀自放怀歌唱？他心里想，不知附近有没有安装着窃听器。他和裘莉亚说话很低声，窃听器是收不到他们的声音的，但是却可以收到乌鸫的声音。也许在窃听器的另一头，有个甲壳虫般的小个子在留心窃听——听到的却是鸟鸣。可是乌鸫鸣叫不止，逐渐把他的一些猜测和怀疑驱除得一干二净。这好象醍醐灌顶，同树叶缝中漏下来的阳光合在一起。他停止了思想，只有感觉在起作用。他怀里的姑娘的腰肢柔软温暖。他把她的身子挪转一下从而使他俩面对着面；她的肉体似乎融化在自已的肉体里了。他的手摸到哪里，哪里就象水一样不加抗拒。他们的嘴唇贴在一起；同刚才的硬梆梆的亲吻大不一样。他们再挪开脸的时候，两个人都深深地叹口气。那只鸟也吃了一惊，扑翅飞走了。
温斯顿的嘴唇贴在她的耳边轻轻说：“马上。”
“可不能在这里，”她轻轻回答。“回到那块空地去。那里安全些。”
他们很快地回到那块空地，一路上折断了一些树枝。一回到小树丛中之后，她就转过身来对着他。两个人都呼吸急促，但是她的嘴角上又现出了笑容。她站着看了他一会，就伸手拉她制服的拉练。啊，是的！这几乎同他梦中所见的一样。几乎同他想象中的一样快，她脱掉了衣服，扔在一旁，也是用那种美妙的姿态，似乎把全部文明都抛置脑后了。她的肉体在阳光下显得十分白晰。但他一时没有去看她的肉体，他的眼光被那露出大胆微笑的雀斑脸庞给吸引住了。他在她前面跪了下来，把她的手握在自己的手中。
“你以前干过吗？”“当然干过。几百次了——嗳，至少几十次了。”
“同党员一起？”
“是的，总是同党员一起。”
“同核心党的党员一起？”
“那可没有，从来没有同那些畜牲一起。不过他们如果有机会，有不少人会愿意的。他们并不象他们装作的那样道貌岸然。”
他的心跳了起来。她已经干了几十次了；他真希望是几百次，几千次。任何腐化堕落的事都使他感到充满希望。谁知道？也许在表面的底下，党是腐朽的，它提倡艰苦朴素只不过是一种掩饰罪恶的伪装。如果他能使他们都传染上麻疯和梅毒，他一定十分乐意这么做！凡是能够腐化、削弱、破坏的事情，他都乐意做！他把她拉下身来，两人面对着面。
“你听好了，你有过的男人越多，我越爱你。你明白吗？”
“完全明白。”
“我恨纯洁，我恨善良。我都不希望哪里有什么美德。
我希望大家都腐化透顶。”
“那么，亲爱的，我应该很配你。我腐化透顶。”
“你喜欢这玩艺儿吗？我不是只指我；我指这件事本身。”
“我热爱这件事。”
这就是他最想听的话。不仅是一个人的爱，而是动物的本能，简单的不加区别的欲望：这就是能够把党搞垮的力量。他把她压倒在草地上，在掉落的风信子的中间。这次没有什么困难。不久他们的胸脯的起伏恢复到正常的速度，兴尽后分开躺在地上了。阳光似乎更加暖和了。两人都有了睡意。他伸手把制服拉了过来，盖在她身上。接着两人就马上睡着了，大约睡了半个小时。
温斯顿先醒。他坐起身来，看着那张仍旧睡着，枕在她的手掌上的雀斑脸。除了她的嘴唇以外，你不能说她美丽。
如果你细看，眼角有一两条皱纹。短短的黑发特别浓密柔软。他忽然想到他还不知道她姓什么，住在哪里。
睡着的无依无靠的年轻健康的肉体引起了他一种怜悯的、保护的心情。但是却不完全是刚才站在榛树下听那乌鸫鸣叫时所感到的那种盲目的柔情。他把制服拉开，看她的洁白如脂的肉体。他想，要是在从前，一个男人看一个女人的肉体，就动了欲念，事情就是那么单纯。可是如今己没有纯真的爱或纯真的欲念了。没有一种感情是纯真的，因为一切都夹杂着恐惧和仇恨。他们的拥抱是一场战斗，高潮就是一次胜利。这是对党的打击。这是一件政治行为。
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收听单词发音
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1
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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bluebell
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| n.风铃草 | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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endorsed
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| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
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9
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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cascaded
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| 级联的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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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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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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49
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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50
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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virtuosity
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| n.精湛技巧 | |
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52
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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53
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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54
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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55
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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56
zipper
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| n.拉链；v.拉上拉链 | |
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57
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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58
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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strenuousness
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62
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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63
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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64
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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66
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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