TheDurhams lived in a remote part of England on the Wilts1 and Somerset border. Though not an old family they had held land for four generations, and its influence had passed into them. Clive's great-great-uncle had been Lord Chief Justice in the reign2 of George IV,and the nest he had feathered was Penge. The feathers were inclined to blow about now. A hundred years had nibbled3 into the fortune, which no wealthy bride had replenished4, and both house and estate were marked, not indeed with decay, but with the immobility that precedes it.
The house lay among woods. A park, still ridged with the lines of vanished hedges, stretched around, giving light and air and pasture to horses and Alderney cows. Beyond it the trees began, most planted by old Sir Edwin, who had annexed5 the common lands. There were two entrances to the park, one up by the village, the other on the clayey road that went to the station. There had been no station in the old days, and the ap-proach from it, which was undignified and led by the back premises6, typified an afterthought of England's.
Maurice arrived in the evening. He had travelled straight from his grandfather's at Birmingham, where, rather tepidly7, he had come of age. Though in disgrace, he had not been mulcted of his presents, but they were given and received without enthusiasm. He had looked forward so much to being
twenty-one. Kitty implied that he did not enjoy it because he had gone to the bad. Quite nicely he pinched her ear for this and kissed her, which annoyed her a good deal. "You have nosense of things," she said crossly. He smiled.
From Alfriston Gardens, with its cousins and meat teas, the change to Penge was immense. County families, even when in-telligent, have something alarming about them, and Maurice approached any seat with awe8. True, Clive had met him and was with him in the brougham, but then so was a Mrs Sheep-shanks, who had arrived by his train. Mrs Sheepshanks had a maid, following behind with her luggage and his in a cab, and he wondered whether he ought to have brought a servant too. The lodge9 gate was held by a little girl. Mrs Sheepshanks wishedeveryone curtsied. Clive trod on his foot when she said this, but he wasn't sure whether accidentally. He was sure of nothing. When they approached he mistook the back for the front, and prepared to open the door. Mrs Sheepshanks said, "Oh, but that's complimentary10." Besides, there was a butler to open the door.
Tea, very bitter, was awaiting them, and Mrs Durham looked one way while she poured out the other. People stood about, all looking distinguished11 or there for some distinguished reason. They were doing things or causing others to do them: Miss Durham booked him to canvass12 tomorrow for Tariff13 Reform. They agreed politically; but the cry with which she greeted his alliance did not please him. "Mother, Mr Hallis sound." Major Western, a cousin also stopping in the house, would ask him about Cambridge. Did Army men mind one being sent down? . . . No, it was worse than the restaurant, for there Clive had been out of his element too.
"Pippa, does Mr Hall know his room?"
'The Blue Room, mama."
"The one with no fireplace," called Clive. "Show him up." He was seeing off some callers.
Miss Durham passed Maurice on to the butler. They went up a side staircase. Maurice saw the main flight to the right, and wondered whether he was being slighted. His room was small, furnished cheaply. It had no outlook. As he knelt down to un-pack, a feeling of Sunnington came over him, and he deter-mined, while he was at Penge, to work through all his clothes. They shouldn't suppose he was unfashionable; he was as good as anyone. But he had scarcely reached this conclusion when Clive rushed in with the sunlight behind him. "Maurice, I shall kiss you," he said, and did so.
"Where—what's through there?"
"Our study—" He was laughing, his expression wild and radi-ant.
"Oh, so that's why—"
"Maurice! Maurice! you've actually come. You're here. This place'll never seem the same again, I shall love it at last."
"It's jolly for me coming," said Maurice chokily: the sudden rush of joy made his head swim.
"Go on unpacking14. So I arranged it on purpose. We're up this staircase by ourselves. It's as like college as I could manage."
"It's better."
"I really feel it will be."
There was a knock on the passage door. Maurice started, but Clive though still sitting on his shoulder said, "Come in!" indif-ferently. A housemaid entered with hot water.
"Except for meals we need never be in the other part of the house," he continued. "Either here or out of doors. Jolly, eh? I've a piano." He drew him into the study. "Look at the view. You may shoot rabbits out of this window. By the way, if my mother or Pippa tells you at dinner that they want you to do
this or that tomorrow, you needn't worry. Say 'yes' to them if you like. You're actually going to ride with me, and they know it. It's only their ritual. On Sunday, when you haven't been to church they'll pretend afterwards you were there."
"But I've no proper riding breeches."
"I can't associate with you in that case," said Clive and bounded off.
When Maurice returned to the drawing-room he felt he had a greater right to be there than anyone. He walked up to Mrs Sheepshanks, opened his mouth before she could open hers, and was encouraging to her. He took his place in the absurd octet that was forming to go in—Clive and Mrs Sheepshanks, Major Western and another woman, another man and Pippa, himself and his hostess. She apologized for the smallness of the party.
"Not at all," said Maurice, and saw Clive glance at him mali-ciously: he had used the wrong tag. Mrs Durham then put him. through his paces, but he did not care a damn whether he satis-fied her or not. She had her son's features and seemed equally able, though not equally sincere. He understood why Clive should have come to despise her.
After dinner the men smoked, then joined the ladies. It was a suburban15 evening, but with a difference; these people had the air of settling something: they either just had arranged or soon would rearrange England. Yet the gate posts, the roads—he had noticed them on the way up—were in bad repair, and the timber wasn't kept properly, the windows stuck, the boards creaked. He was less impressed than he had expected by Penge.
When the ladies retired16 Clive said, "Maurice, you look sleepy too." Maurice took the hint, and five minutes afterwards they met again in the study, with all the night to talk into. They lit their pipes. It was the first time they had experienced full tran-
quillity together, and exquisite17 words would be spoken. They knew this, yet scarcely wanted to begin.
"I'll tell you my latest now," said Clive. "As soon as I got home I had a row with mother and told her I should stop up a fourth year."
Maurice gave a cry.
"What's wrong?"
"I've been sent down."
"But you're coming back in October."
"I'm not. Cornwallis said I must apologize, and I wouldn't— I thought you wouldn't be up, so I didn't care."
"And I settled to stop because I thought you would be up. Comedy of Errors."
Maurice stared gloomily before him.
"Comedy of Errors, not Tragedy. You can apologize now."
"It's too late."
Clive laughed. "Why too late? It makes it simpler. You didn't like to apologize until the term in which your offence was com-mitted had come to an end. 'Dear Mr Cornwallis: Now that the term is over, I venture to write to you.' I'll draft the letter tomor-row."
Maurice pondered and finally exclaimed, "Clive, you're a devil."
"I'm a bit of an outlaw18, I grant, but it serves these people right. As long as they talk of the unspeakable vice19 of the Greeks they can't expect fair play. It served my mother right when I slipped up to kiss you before dinner. She would have no mercy if she knew, she wouldn't attempt, wouldn't want to attempt to understand that I feel to you as Pippa to her fiance, only far more nobly, far more deeply, body and soul, no starved medie-valism of course, only a—a particular harmony of body and soul that I don't think women have even guessed. But you know."
"Yes. I'll apologize."
There was a long interval20: they discussed the motor bicycle, which had never been heard of again. Clive made coffee.
"Tell me, what made you wake me that night after the Debat-ing Society. Describe."
"I kept on thinking of something to say, and couldn't, so at last I couldn't even think, so I just came."
"Sort of thing you would do."
"Are you ragging?" asked Maurice shyly.
"My God!" There was a silence. "Tell me now about the night I first came up. Why did you make us both so unhappy?"
"I don't know, I say. I can't explain anything. Why did you mislead me with that rotten Plato? I was still in a muddle21. A lot of things hadn't joined up in me that since have."
"But hadn't you been getting hold of me for months? Since first you saw me at Risley's, in fact."
"Don't ask me."
"It's a queer business, any way."
"It's that."
Clive laughed delightedly, and wriggled22 in his chair. "Mau-rice, the more I think it over the more certain I am that it's you who are the devil."
"Oh, all right."
"I should have gone through life half awake if you'd had the decency23 to leave me alone. Awake intellectually, yes, and emo-tionally in a way; but here—" He pointed24 with his pipe stem to his heart; and both smiled. "Perhaps we woke up one another. I like to think that any way."
"When did you first care about me?"
"Don't ask me," echoed Clive.
"Oh, be a bit serious—well—what was it in me you first cared about?"
"Like really to know?" asked Clive, who was in the mood Maurice adored—half mischievous25, half passionate26; a mood of supreme27 affection.
"Yes."
"Well, it was your beauty."
"My what?"
"Beauty. ... I used to admire that man over the bookcase most."
"I can give points to a picture, I dare say," said Maurice, hav-ing glanced at the Michelangelo. "Clive, you're a silly little fool, and since you've brought it up I think you're beautiful, the only beautiful person I've ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you."
Clive went crimson28. "Sit up straight and let's change the sub-ject," he said, all the folly29 out of him.
"I didn't mean to annoy you at all—"
"Those things must be said once, or we should never know they were in each other's hearts. I hadn't guessed, not so much at least. You've done all right, Maurice." He did not change the subject but developed it into another that had interested him recently, the precise influence of Desire upon our aesthetic30 judgements. "Look at that picture, for instance. I love it because, like the painter himself, I love the subject. I don't judge it with eyes of the normal man. There seem two roads for arriving at Beauty—one is in common, and all the world has reached Michelangelo by it, but the other is private to me and a few more. We come to him by both roads. On the other hand Greuze —his subject matter repels31 me. I can only get to him down one road. The rest of the world finds two."
Maurice did not interrupt: it was all charming nonsense to him.
"These private roads are perhaps a mistake," concluded Clive. "But as long as the human figure is painted they will be taken. Landscape is the only safe subject—or perhaps something geo-metric, rhythmical32, inhuman33 absolutely. I wonder whether that is what the Mohammedans were up to and old Moses—I've just thought of this. If you introduce the human figure you at once arouse either disgust or desire. Very faintiy sometimes, but it's there. 'Thou shalt not make for thyself any graven image—' because one couldn't possibly make it for all other people too. Maurice, shall we rewrite history? 'The Aesthetic Philosophy of the Decalogue.' I've always thought it remarkable34 of God not to have damned you or me in it. I used to put it down to him for righteousness, though now I suspect he was merely ill-informed. Still I might make out a case. Shall I choose it for a Fellowship Dissertation35?"
"Ican't follow, you know," said Maurice, a little ashamed.
And their love scene drew out, having the inestimable gain of a new language. No tradition overawed the boys. No convention settled what was poetic36, what absurd. They were concerned with a passion that few English minds have admitted, and so created untrammelled. Something of exquisite beauty arose in the mind of each at last, something unforgettable and eternal, but built of the humblest scraps37 of speech and from the simplest emotions.
"I say, will you kiss me?" asked Maurice, when the sparrows woke in the eaves above them, and far out in the woods the ring-doves began to coo.
Clive shook his head, and smiling they parted, having estab-lished perfection in their lives, at all events for a time.
德拉姆家住在英格兰偏远地区，威尔特（译注：威尔特是英格兰南部一郡，位于布里斯托尔海峡、英吉利海峡和泰晤士河之间的分水岭地区。）与萨默塞特（萨默塞特是英格兰西南部一郡，北濒布里斯托尔海湾。沿岸风景优美，是保护区。）两郡交界处。尽管并非世家，这个家族拥有这片土地已达四代之久，其影响融入了他们的血液。在乔治四世（译注：乔治四世(1762-1830)．英国国王、汉诺威国王。1820年即位。）的统治下，克莱夫的曾叔祖曾任英国首席法官。彭杰就是他用羽毛筑起来的窝。如今那些羽毛几乎被刮得七零八落了。这份家当遭到百年岁月的蚕食，也未娶上一位阔新娘来改换门庭。宅邸与庄园虽然尚未真正朽烂，却已打上了停滞的烙印，而那正是朽烂的前兆。
宅邸坐落在森林里。周围是辽阔的园林，仍被逐渐消失的树篱圈起。园林提供着阳光、空气、牧场与成群的奥尔德尼（译注：奥尔德尼是英国海峡群岛岛屿，在英吉利海峡，以养牛和旅游业为主。）乳牛。园林外面是一片森林，大多是老埃德温爵士生前栽种的。他将私有的园林与公地并在了一起。园林有两个大门口。从村庄往上走就到了一个门口，另一道门则开在通往车站的黏土质道路上。原本这里没有车站，从车站通向园林的是一条沿着后院的不像样的背巷，象征着英国人的事后聪明。
莫瑞斯是傍晚抵达的。他是从住在伯明翰的外祖父家里径直上路的。在那里，他死气沉沉地过了成年的生日。尽管丢尽了面子，礼物并没被取消，但是送的人和接受的人都不起劲儿。他曾经翘盼着满二十一岁这一天。吉蒂暗示说，由于哥哥堕落了，所以感到不快乐。作为报复，莫瑞斯好好地掐了一下她的耳朵，并吻了她，弄得吉蒂非常恼火。“你不明事理。”她气冲冲地说。他面泛微笑。
外祖父那座艾尔弗里斯顿花园有不少表兄弟姐妹，下午喝茶的时候供应肉食冷盘。从那儿来到彭杰，变化太大了。全郡居民，即使那些有才智的，其周围的气氛也令人不安。莫瑞斯不论是到哪座庄园去拜访，都心怀畏惧。不错，克莱夫到车站来接他，陪他坐上四轮轿式马车。跟莫瑞斯乘同一趟火车来的希普香克斯太太也坐上了这辆马车。希普香克斯太太有一个女佣，连同她和莫瑞斯的行李，乘一辆出租马车，尾随其后。莫瑞斯嘀咕着自己是否也该带个仆人来。一个小姑娘扶着看守小屋那扇敞开的门，希普香克斯太太想让每个人都对她施屈膝礼。当这位太太对小姑娘这么说的时候，克莱夫踩了莫瑞斯一脚，莫瑞斯拿不准克莱夫是故意的，还是偶然的。他什么都拿不准。他们来到宅第跟前时，他把后门误当成前门，伸手去为这位太太开门。希普香克斯太太说：“哦，实在不敢当。”而且那儿有个负责开门的男管家。
已经给客人斟好了很酽的茶。德拉姆太太一面倒茶，一面朝另一边望着。人们东一个西一个站着，看上去他们都气度不凡，要么就是为了不同凡响的理由而待在那儿。他们本人有所作为，要么就是敦促旁人有所作为。德拉姆小姐跟莫瑞斯约好，明天一起去参加关税改革的讨论会。他们两个人在政治上意见一致，但是她由于欢迎这种同盟而大声喊叫使他很不高兴。“妈妈，霍尔先生是个正经人。”韦斯顿少校是德拉姆家的亲戚，也暂时住在他们家。他这样那样地向莫瑞斯打听剑桥的事。军人会在乎他受停学处分这一点吗？……可不，这比在饭馆里那次还糟，因为在那儿，克莱夫也不得其所。
“皮帕，霍尔先生知道他住在哪间屋子里吗？”
“是蓝屋，妈妈。”
“那间屋里没有壁炉。”克莱夫在一边大声说，“你领他去吧。”他正在送走一些客人。
德拉姆小姐把莫瑞斯带到男管家那里。他们沿着侧面的楼梯走上去，莫瑞斯看见正面的楼梯在右边，他怀疑自己莫非受到了怠慢。他这间屋子很小，摆设也简陋，窗外没有景致。当他跪下来打开行李时，在萨宁顿住宿时的感觉重新袭上心头。他拿定主意，在彭杰逗留期间，要有效地利用自己所带来的全部衣物。他们休想将他当成不符合时尚的人，他样样都不比别人逊色。然而他刚得出这个结论，克莱夫就背着阳光冲进屋子。“莫瑞斯，我要吻你。”他说完就做了。
“那个门通向什么地方？”
“咱们的书房呗……”他笑着，表情激动，容光焕发。
“噢，原来如此……”
“莫瑞斯！莫瑞斯！你真来啦，你在这儿。彭杰再也不像过去那样了，我终于爱上了这个地方。”
“我到这儿来，太高兴了。”莫瑞斯的声音哽噎了。一阵欢乐猛地袭上心头，他感到眩晕。
“继续把行李打开吧，我是故意这么安排的。只有咱们两个人走这楼梯。我尽量安排得像在学院里一样。”
“比学院里还好呢。”
“我确实认为是这样。”
有人在敲通向过道的那扇门，莫瑞斯吓了一跳。克莱夫仍坐在他的肩膀上，满不在乎地说：“请进！”一个女佣送热水来了。
“除了吃饭，咱们用不着去家里的其他地方。”他继续说，“要么待在这儿，要么就出门。快乐吧，啊？我有一架钢琴。”他把莫瑞斯拉进书房。“看看风景。从这个窗户你就可以射击兔子。顺便说说，倘若吃晚饭的时候家母或皮帕告诉你，明天她们要你做这做那，你不用发愁。你如果愿意的话，可以对她们说：‘好的。’其实你将跟我一道去骑马，她们也知道。她们只不过是照通常的习惯邀请一下而已。在星期天，假若你没去做礼拜，事后她们会假装认为你去过了。”
“可是我没有正式的马裤。”
“那么我就不奉陪啦。”克莱夫说罢，从莫瑞斯的肩上一跃而下。
当莫瑞斯回到客厅里的时候，他认为自己所拥有的待在那儿的权利比任何人都大。他踱到希普香克斯太太跟前，她还没来得及开口，他就说起话来，对她表示支持。不成双、不成对的八个人准备入席——克莱夫与希普香克斯太太，韦斯顿少校与另一个妇女，另一个男子与皮帕，他本人与女主人—一他堂堂正正地确保了自己的座位。她向他道歉说，人数太少了。
“哪里，哪里。”莫瑞斯说。他发觉克莱夫用讥讽的眼神瞥视自己，于是想：这句套话用错了。接着，德拉姆太太开始考察莫瑞斯的能力，然而他一点儿也不在乎她是否对自己感到满意。她的容貌跟儿子相像，看上去跟儿子一样有本事，所不同的是没有儿子那么真诚。他理解了克莱夫为什么会看不起自己的母亲。
饭后，男人们抽了一会儿烟，就来跟女士们做伴。这与住在伦敦郊区的中等阶层的人们消磨傍晚时光的方式相似，然而又有所不同。这些人有一种处理大事的风度：他们要么刚刚扭转过，要么即将重新扭转乾坤。不过，大门的门柱也罢，道路也罢——来的时候他一路注意到——无不年久失修。森林树木管理不善，一扇扇窗户卡住了，地板踏上去嘎吱作响。他对彭杰的幻想多少破灭了一些。
女士们回到各自的房间去了，克莱夫说：“莫瑞斯，看上去你也困了。”莫瑞斯领会了这个提示，过了五分钟，他们二人就在书房里重逢，以便彻夜谈心。他们点燃了烟斗。这是他们第一次在一起体验完完全全的静谧，他们将进行微妙的对话。他们心领神会，可是舍不得马上开始。
“我现在告诉你我最近的情况。”克莱夫说，“我一到家就跟母亲争吵，告诉她，第四个学年我也要待在剑桥。”
莫瑞斯大喊一声。
“怎么啦？”
“我受了停学处分呀。”
“不过，十月你就会返校的。”
“我不回去。康沃利斯先生说我必须写悔过书，我不写——我以为你读完第三个学年就走了，所以满不在乎。”
“而我还只当你会回来，才决定荐读上一年的。简直是一场错误的喜剧。”
莫瑞斯神色忧郁地朝前面望着。
“错误的喜剧，不是悲剧。你现在就可以写悔过书。”
“已经太晚啦。”
克莱夫笑了。“怎么会太晚呢？反倒更简单一些呢。你在自己犯了过错的这个学期结束之前无意悔过。‘亲爱的康沃利斯先生，在本学期结束之际，恕我冒昧地向您致书。’明天我替你起草悔过书的底稿。”
莫瑞斯思考了一番，最后惊叫道：“克莱夫，你是个坏蛋！”
“我承认自己有不法之徒的一面，然而那帮人就欠我这么对待他们。只要他们一天说什么‘希腊人那难以启齿的罪恶’，他们又怎么能指望我磊落坦率地对待他们呢？晚饭前，我溜进去吻了你一下。我母亲完全蒙在鼓里，活该！倘若她知道了，绝不会轻饶我。我对你的感情就跟皮帕对她的未婚夫的感情一样，只不过高尚得多，深厚得多。母亲却不想知道，也不试图知道。肉与灵协调一致，当然不是中世纪那饿瘪了的东西，只是肉与灵的一种特殊的协调一致。依我看，女人甚至理会不到有这种东西。但你是知道的。”
“好的，我写悔过书。”
他们聊了好一会儿，还谈起那辆摩托车。从那一天起，再也不曾听说它怎样了。克莱夫煮了咖啡。
“喂，那天晚上开完讨论会之后，你怎么会想起来叫我的？你说一说。”
“我一直想对你说点儿什么，可又不知道该说什么。最后弄得思绪纷乱，所以就去了。”
“这种事你是做得出来的。”
“你是在跟我开玩笑吗？”莫瑞斯羞怯地问。
“哪里的话！”紧接着是一阵沉默。“现在跟我讲讲我第一次对你吐露心里话的那个晚上的事。你为什么弄得咱们两个人都那么不愉快呢？”
“我不知道，我什么都无从解释。你为什么搬出讨厌的柏拉图来误导我呢？当时我还糊里糊涂的，对许多事都不明白。打那以后，才逐渐开窍儿。”
“不过，你使我醉心而不能自拔，已达几个月之久了吗？事实上，是从你在里斯利的房间里头一次见到我的时候起。”
“别问我这个。”
“不管怎么说，这件事儿难以解释。”
“可不是嘛。”
克莱夫高兴地笑了，在椅子上扭动着身体。“莫瑞斯，我越细琢磨越能肯定，你才是个坏蛋呢。”
“是这么回事吗？”
“倘若你高抬贵手，容我听其自然，我就会半睡半醒地了此一生。当然，我在理智方面是清醒的，在感情方面多少也……然而，这里……”他用烟斗柄指了指自己的心脏。于是，两个人都微笑了。“也许咱们俩是互相被唤醒了。我情愿这么想。”
“你是从什么时候起看上我的？”
“别问我这个。”克莱夫重复了一遍莫瑞斯方才的话。
“喂，你给我放正经点儿——喏——你起初看上我的哪一点？”
“你真想知道吗？”克莱夫问。莫瑞斯非常喜欢这种心境——顽皮与激情参半，洋溢着挚爱的克莱夫。
“想知道。”
“喏，看上了你的美。”
“我的什么？”
“美……我曾经最爱慕书架上方的那个男人。”
“一幅画嘛，我足可以理解的。”莫瑞斯瞥了一眼墙上的米开朗琪罗说。“克莱夫，你是个可笑的小傻瓜。你既然提出来了嘛，我也认为你美。你是我迄今见过的惟一长得美的人。我爱你的嗓音，爱与你有关的一切，直到你的衣服，或是你坐在里面的屋子。我崇拜你。”
克莱夫的脸变得绯红。“坐直了，咱们换个话题吧。”他说，那股傻劲儿已荡然无存。
“我压根儿没有惹恼你的意思。”
“这些话非得说一遍不可，否则咱们俩永远不会明白彼此的心事。我没想到，至少没猜测出到了这种程度。你做得很对，莫瑞斯。”他不曾换话题，却把它发展到新近感兴趣的另一个主题上去了：欲望对我们的审美能力究竟产生多大的影响。“比方说，瞧瞧那幅画。我爱它，因为我跟画家本人一样，爱他所画的那个青年。我不用一般男人的目光来鉴赏这幅画。通向美的路似乎有两条一一条是共通的，芸芸众生正是沿着这条路走到米开朗琪罗跟前的。另一条是我和另外几个人走的幽径。我们沿着这两条路抵达米开朗琪罗那儿。但是，格勒兹（译注：琼-巴普蒂斯特.格勒兹(1725-1805)是法国风俗画和肖像画家。1759年结识法国文学家、哲学家狄德罗（1713-1784），受其鼓励倾向于感情夸张的风俗画。）却不然。他的题材使我感到厌恶。我只能沿着一条路走到他跟前，芸芸众生却能找到两条路。”
莫瑞斯没有打断他的话。对他来说，那通篇都是可爱的无稽之谈。
“私自拥有幽径也许是错误的，”克莱夫下结论说，“然而只要还画人物像，幽径就存在。风景是惟一安全的题材。要么就是几何图形，格调优美，完全无人性的主题。我心里琢磨，这会不会是回教徒所领会到的一点呢？还有老摩西——我这是刚刚想到的。倘若你把人体画下来，当即会引起厌恶或挑逗起欲望。有时是非常轻微的，但必然产生。‘不可为自己造任何偶像’（译注：见《旧约全书·出埃及记》第20章第4节。）。因为你不可能为所有的人都造偶像。莫瑞斯，咱们来改写历史如何？《十诫里的美的哲学》。我一直认为神真了不起，没有处罚你我之辈。过去我把这看作出于神的正义，不过如今我猜想神仅仅是不知情而已。然而我还是能就这个专题进行答辩。我要不要拿这个主题写篇论文，好取得特别研究员的资格呢？”
“我听不懂，这你是知道的。”莫瑞斯说，他有点儿难为情。
他们的情场获得了不可估量的意义的新语言，从而拖长了。任何传统都不曾吓倒这对年轻人。任何习俗也不曾确定什么是富有诗意的，什么是不合理的。肯于承认他们所涉及的那种情欲的英国心灵寥寥无几，也就没有为之制造羁绊。他们的心灵中终于出现了极致的美。难以忘怀，永恒不变，是用最谦卑的片言只语表达出来的，并且发自最单纯的感情。
“喂，你肯吻我一下吗？”当麻雀在头顶上的屋檐下睡醒，斑尾林鸽在远方的森林里开始咕咕地鸣啭时，莫瑞斯问。
克莱夫摇摇头，他们面泛微笑分手了。无论如何，他们暂时在各自的人生中建立了完美。
收听单词发音 |
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wilts
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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tepidly
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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repels
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| v.击退( repel的第三人称单数 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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