The rain was coming down in its old fashion, tapping on a million roofs and occasionally effecting an entry. It beat down the smoke, and caused the fumes1 of petrol and the smell of wet clothes to linger mixed on the streets of London. In the great forecourt of the Museum it could fall uninterrupt-edly, plumb2 onto the draggled doves and the helmets of the police. So dark was the afternoon that some of the lights had been turned on inside, and the great building suggested a tomb, miraculously3 illuminated4 by spirits of the dead.
Alec arrived first, dressed no longer in corduroys but in a new blue suit and bowler5 hat—part of his outfit6 for the Argentine. He sprang, as he had boasted, of a respectable family—publi-cans, small tradesmen—and it was only by accident that he had appeared as an untamed son of the woods. Indeed, he liked the woods and the fresh air and water, he liked them better than anything and he liked to protect or destroy life, but woods con-tain no "openings", and young men who want to get on must leave them. He was determined7 in a blind way to get on now. Fate had placed a snare8 in his hands, and he meant to set it. He tramped over the courtyard, then took the steps in a series of springs; having won the shelter of the portico9 he stood motion-less, except for the flicker10 of his eyes. These sudden changes of pace were typical of the man, who always advanced as a skir-misher, was always "on the spot" as Clive had phrased it in the
written testimonial; "during the five months A. Scudder was in my service I found him prompt and assiduous": qualities that he proposed to display now. When the victim drove up he be-came half cruel, half frightened. Gentlemen he knew, mates he knew; what class of creature was Mr Hall who said, "Call me Maurice"? Narrowing his eyes to slits11, he stood as though wait-ing for orders outside the front porch at Penge.
Maurice approached the most dangerous day of his life with-out any plan at all, yet something kept rippling12 in his mind like muscles beneath a healthy skin. He was not supported by pride but he did feel fit, anxious to play the game, and, as an English-man should, hoped that his opponent felt fit too. He wanted to be decent, he wasn't afraid. When he saw Alec's face glowing through the dirty air his own tingled13 slightly, and he determined not to strike until he was struck.
"Here you are," he said, raising a pair of gloves to his hat. "This rain's the limit. Let's have a talk inside."
"Where you wish."
Maurice looked at him with some friendliness14, and they en-tered the building. As they did so, Alec raised his head and sneezed like a lion.
"Got a chill? It's the weather."
"What's all this place?" he asked.
"Old things belonging to the nation." They paused in the corridor of Roman emperors. "Yes, it's bad weather. There've only been two fine days. And one fine night," he added mis-chievously, surprising himself.
But Alec didn't catch on. It wasn't the opening he wanted. He was waiting for signs of fear, that the menial in him might strike. He pretended not to understand the allusion15, and sneezed again. The roar echoed down vestibules, and his face, convulsed and distorted, took a sudden appearance of hunger.
"I'm glad you wrote to me the second time. I liked both your letters. I'm not offended—you've never done anything wrong. It's all your mistake about cricket and the rest. I'll tell you straight out I enjoyed being with you, if that's the trouble. Is it? I want you to tell me. I just don't know."
"What's here?That's no mistake." He touched his breast pocket, meaningly. "Your writing. And you and the squire—that's no mistake—some may wish as it was one."
"Don't drag in that," said Maurice, but without indignation, and it struck him as odd that he had none, and that even the Clive of Cambridge had lost sanctity.
"Mr Hall—you reckernize it wouldn't very well suit you if certain things came out, I suppose."
Maurice found himself trying to get underneath16 the words.
He continued, feeling his way to a grip. "What's more, I've always been a respectable young fellow until you called me into your room to amuse yourself. It don't hardly seem fair that a gentleman should drag you down. At least that's how my brother sees it." He faltered17 as he spoke18 these last words. "My brother's waiting outside now as a matter of fact. He wanted to come and speak to you hisself, he's been scolding me shocking, but I said, 'No Fred no, Mr Hall's a gentleman and can be trusted to behave like one, so you leave 'im to me,' I said, 'and Mr Durham, he's a gentleman too, always was and always will be.'"
"With regard to Mr Durham," said Maurice, feeling inclined to speak on this point: "It's quite correct that I cared for him and he for me once, but he changed, and now he doesn't care any more for me nor I for him. It's the end."
"End o' what?"
"Of our friendship."
"Mr Hall, have you heard what I was saying?"
"I hear everything you say," said Maurice thoughtfully, and continued in exactly the same tone: "Scudder, why do you think it's 'natural' to care both for women and men? You wrote so in your letter. It isn't natural for me. I have really got to think that 'natural' only means oneself."
The man seemed interested. "Couldn't you get a kid of your own, then?" he asked, roughening.
"I've been to two doctors about it. Neither were any good."
"So you can't?"
"No, I can't."
"Want one?" he asked, as if hostile.
"It's not much use wanting."
"I could marry tomorrow if I like," he bragged19. While speak-ing, he caught sight of a winged Assyrian bull, and his expres-sion altered into naive21 wonder. "He's big enough, isn't he," he remarked. "They must have owned wonderful machinery22 to make a thing like that."
"I expect so," said Maurice, also impressed by the bull. "I couldn't tell you. Here seems to be another one."
"A pair, so to speak. Would these have been ornaments23?"
"This one has five legs."
"So's mine. A curious idea." Standing24 each by his monster, they looked at each other, and smiled. Then his face hardened again and he said, "Won't do, Mr Hall. I see your game, but you don't fool me twice, and you'll do better to have a friendly talk with me rather than wait for Fred, I can tell you. You've had your fun and you've got to pay up." He looked handsome as he threatened—including the pupils of his eyes, which were evil. Maurice gazed into them gently but keenly. And nothing re-sulted from the outburst at all. It fell away like a flake25 of mud. Murmuring something about "leaving you to think this over", he sat down on a bench. Maurice joined him there shortly. And
it was thus for nearly twenty minutes: they kept wandering from room to room as if in search of something. They would peer at a goddess or vase, then move at a single impulse, and their unison26 was the stranger because on the surface they were at war. Alec recommenced his hints—horrible, reptilian—but somehow they did not pollute the intervening silences, and Maurice failed to get afraid or angry, and only regretted that any human being should have got into such a mess. When he chose to reply their eyes met, and his smile was sometimes re-flected on the lips of his foe27. The belief grew that the actual situation was a blind—a practical joke almost—and concealed28 something real, that either desired. Serious and good-tempered, he continued to hold his own, and if he made no offensive it was because his blood wasn't warm. To set it moving, a shock from without was required, and chance administered this.
He was bending over a model of the Acropolis with his fore-head a little wrinkled and his lips murmuring, "I see, I see, I see." A gentleman near overheard him, started, peered through strong spectacles, and said "Surely! I may forget faces but never a voice. Surely! You are one of our old boys." It was Mr Ducie.
Maurice did not reply. Alec sidled up closer to participate.
"Surely you were at Mr Abrahams's school. Now wait! Wait! Don't tell me your name. I want to remember it. I will remember it. You're not Sanday, you're not Gibbs. I know. I know. It's Wimbleby."
How like Mr Ducie to get the facts just wrong! To his own name Maurice would have responded, but he now had the in-clination to lie; he was tired of their endless inaccuracy, he had suffered too much from it. He replied, "No, my name's Scudder." The correction flew out as the first that occurred to him. It lay ripe to be used, and as he uttered it he knew why. But at the instant of enlightenment Alec himself spoke. "It isn't," he said
to Mr Ducie, "and I've a serious charge to bring against this gentleman."
"Yes, awfully29 serious," remarked Maurice, and rested his hand on Alec's shoulder, so that the fingers touched the back of the neck, doing this merely because he wished to do it, not for an-other reason.
Mr Ducie did not take notice. An unsuspicious man, he as-sumed some uncouth30 joke. The dark gentlemanly fellow couldn't be Wimbleby if he said he wasn't. He said, "I'm extremely sorry, sir, it's so seldom I make a mistake," and then, determined to show he was not an old fool, he addressed the silent pair on the subject of the British Museum—not merely a collection of relics31 but a place round which one could take—er—the less fortunate, quite so—a stimulating32 place—it raised questions even in the minds of boys—which one answered—no doubt inadequately33; until a patient voice said, "Ben, we are waiting," and Mr Ducie rejoined his wife. As he did so Alec jerked away and muttered, 'That's all right. . .. I won't trouble you now."
"Where are you going with your serious charge?" said Mau-rice, suddenly formidable.
"Couldn't say." He looked back, his colouring stood out against the heroes, perfect but bloodless, who had never known be-wilderment or infamy34. "Don't you worry—I'll never harm you now, you've too much pluck."
"Pluck be damned," said Maurice, with a plunge35 into anger.
"It'll all go no further—" He struck his own mouth. "I don't know what came over me, Mr Hall; I don't want to harm you, I never did."
"You blackmailed36 me."
"No, sir, no..."
"You did."
"Maurice, listen, I only ..."
"Maurice am I?"
"You called me Alec... . I'm as good as you."
"I don't find you are!" There was a pause; before the storm; then he burst out: "By God, if you'd split on me to Mr Ducie, I'd have broken you. It might have cost me hundreds, but I've got them, and the police always back my sort against yours. You don't know. We'd have got you into quod, for blackmail37, after which—I'd have blown out my brains."
"Killed yourself? Death?"
"I should have known by that time that I loved you. Too late ... everything's always too late." The rows of old statues tottered38, and he heard himself add, "I don't mean anything, but come out-side, we can't talk here." They left the enormous and overheated building, they passed the library, supposed catholic, seeking darkness and rain. On the portico Maurice stopped and said bitterly, "I forgot. Your brother?"
"He's down at father's—doesn't know a word—I was but threatening—"
"—for blackmail."
"Could you but understand..." He pulled out Maurice's note. "Take it if you like.... I don't want it.. . never did .... I sup-pose this is the end."
Assuredly it wasn't that. Unable to part yet ignorant of what could next come, they strode raging through the last glimmering39 of the sordid40 day; night, ever one in her quality, came finally, and Maurice recovered his self-control and could look at the new material that passion had gained for him. In a deserted41 square, against railings that encircled some trees, they came to a halt, and he began to discuss their crisis.
But as he grew calm the other grew fierce. It was as if Mr Ducie had established some infuriating inequality between them, so that one struck as soon as his fellow tired of striking. Alec said savagely42, "It rained harder than this in the boathouse, it was yet colder. Why did you not come?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You've to learn I'm always in a muddle. I didn't come or write because I wanted to get away from you without wanting. You won't understand. You kept dragging me back and I got awfully frightened. I felt you when I tried to get some sleep at the doc-tor's. You came hard at me. I knew something was evil but couldn't tell what, so kept pretending it was you."
"What was it?"
"The—situation."
"I don't follow this. Why did you not come to the boathouse?"
"My fear—and your trouble has been fear too. Ever since the cricket match you've let yourself get afraid of me. That's why we've been trying to down one another so and are still."
"Iwouldn't take a penny from you, I wouldn't hurt your little finger," he growled44, and rattled45 the bars that kept him from the trees.
"But you're still trying hard to hurt me in my mind."
"Why do you go and say you love me?"
"Why do you call me Maurice?"
"Oh let's give over talking. Here—" and he held out his hand. Maurice took it, and they knew at that moment the greatest triumph ordinary man can win. Physical love means reaction, being panic in essence, and Maurice saw now how natural it was that their primitive46 abandonment at Penge should have led to peril47. They knew too little about each other—and too much. Hence fear. Hence cruelty. And he rejoiced because he had understood Alec's infamy through his own—glimpsing, not for the first time, the genius who hides in man's tormented48 soul. Not as a hero, but as a comrade, had he stood up to the bluster49, and found childishness behind it, and behind that something else.
Presently the other spoke. Spasms50 of remorse51 and apology broke him; he was as one who throws off a poison. Then, gather-ing health, he began to tell his friend everything, no longer ashamed. He spoke of his relations. . . . He too was embedded52 in class. No one knew he was in London—Penge thought he was at his father's, his father at Penge—it had been difficult, very. Now he ought to go home—see his brother with whom he re-turned to the Argentine: his brother connected with trade, and his brother's wife; and he mingled53 some brag20, as those whose education is not literary must. He came of a respectable family, he repeated, he bowed down to no man, not he, he was as good as any gentleman. But while be bragged his arm was gaining Maurice's. They deserved such a caress—the feeling was strange. Words died away, abruptly54 to recommence. It was Alec who ventured them.
"Stop with me."
Maurice swerved55 and their muscles clipped. By now they were in love with one another consciously.
"Sleep the night with me. I know a place."
"I can't, I've an engagement," said Maurice, his heart beating violently. A formal dinner party awaited him of the sort that brought work to his firm and that he couldn't possibly cut. He had almost forgotten its existence."Ihave to leave you now and get changed. But look here: Alec, be reasonable. Meet me an-other evening instead—any day."
"Can't come to London again—father or Mr Ayres will be passing remarks."
"What does it matter if they do?"
"What's your engagement matter?"
They were silent again. Then Maurice said in affectionate yet "dejected tones, "All right. To Hell with it," and they passed on together in the rain.
雨照老样子下起来了，砸在一百万个房顶上，偶尔还捎进屋里。雨把烟浇得消散了，以致使石油的臭气与湿衣服的气味相混合，弥漫在伦敦的大街小巷。它连续不断地降在博物馆那宽敞的前院，笔直地泼在脏了的鸽子和警察的钢盔上。下午暗得厉害，博物馆内部已经点燃了几盏灯，宏伟的建筑物使人联想到一座坟墓，奇迹般地被亡灵照亮。
阿列克先到了。他没再穿灯芯绒衣服，却身着崭新的蓝色三件套礼服，头戴圆顶硬礼帽。这是他为了前往阿根廷而添置的旅行装的一部分。正如他所夸耀的，他出身于一个体面的家庭——客栈老板、小生意人——他一度看上去像是个森林中未开化者之子，那仅仅是出于偶然。他确实喜爱森林、新鲜空气和水，比对任何东西都爱。他还喜欢保护或杀害野生动物。然而森林里没有“好机会”，凡足想发迹的年轻人必然撇下森林。现在他莽撞地下定决心努力发迹。命运使他掌握了一只罗网，他打算将它布下。他大步流星地跨过前院，跳跃着迈上台阶，到了有圆柱的门廊下，他就一动也不动地伫立在那里，惟有一双眼睛仍眨巴着。像这样突然改变动作是他的癖性。他总是犹如一名散兵似的向前挺进。克莱夫在推荐书上写道，他老是“在现场。阿·斯卡德被我雇用的期间，我发现他既敏捷又勤勉”。眼下他打算将这些本领露一手。当猎物乘汽车抵达时，他感到冷酷、恐惧参半。他了解绅士，也了解伙伴。这个曾经说过“管我叫莫瑞斯”的人，到底属于什么类型呢？他把眼睛眯成一条缝，伫立在那儿，就像在彭杰的正面门廊外边听候吩咐一般。
莫瑞斯忐忑不安地走向平生最危险的一天，然而心中不断地泛起涟漪，犹如在健康的皮肤下面颤动的肌肉似的。他没有被自尊心所支撑，但是感觉确实良好，急欲光明正大地比试一番。正如英国人之常情，他希望对手也感觉良好。他想要行为得体，毫不畏惧。当他透过肮脏的空气瞧见阿列克那红润的脸蛋儿时，他自己的面颊也泛起了一丝红晕。他下定决心，在遭到攻击之前，决不攻击。
“你来啦。”他边把拿着一副手套的手举起来扶扶帽子边说。“雨太大了，咱们进去谈吧。”
“你愿意去哪儿都行。”
莫瑞斯用略微带点儿友善的表情瞅着他，两介人就走进馆里去了。刚一进去，阿列克就抬起头，像头狮子似的打了个喷嚏。
“着凉了吗？全怪这雨天。”
“这地方都是些什么呀？”他问。
“属于国家的古老的东西。”他们在罗马皇帝的回廊里停下脚步。“是啊，天气糟透啦。只有过两个晴天和一个美好的夜晚。”他顽皮地补上一句，连自己都吃了一惊。
然而阿列克没有理会。像这样的开头，可不是他所想的。他等待着对方露出害怕的样子，这下子他身上的奴仆劣根性就可以进行讹诈了。他假装没听懂莫瑞斯转弯抹角提及的事，再度打了喷嚏。震耳的喷嚏声响彻回廊，他那张抽搐得变了样的脸，突然露出饥饿的神色。
“我很高兴你第二次给我写信，你的两封信我都喜欢。我没有见怪一你从来没有做过任何不对的事。关于板球赛等等，统统是你的误会。我坦率地告诉你吧，我跟你相处感到愉快。难道你以为我不愉快吗？是这样吗？我想要你告诉我，我不明白。”
“这儿放着什么？这是不会弄错的。”他意味深长地摸了摸胸前的兜。“你的信，还有你和那位乡绅——这是不会弄错的——有人希望那是个误会。”
“别把那件事扯进去。”莫瑞斯说，然而他并没生气。他突然想到，真怪，自己怎么一点儿也没生气。就连剑桥的克莱夫也失掉了神圣的不可侵犯性。
“霍尔先生——我猜想，要是有些事传出去了，对你可不大方便啊。”
莫瑞斯发现，自己正在试图探索这句话背后的意思。
他谨慎地继续说下去，以便牢牢地控制住莫瑞斯。“而且你为了自己找乐子，把我叫进你的屋子里之前，我一直是个体面的小伙子。一个绅士就这样把我的身体拖垮，好像一点儿也不公正。至少我哥是这么看的。”他是结结巴巴地说出最后这段话的：“当然喽，这会儿我哥在外边等着呢。他原先想要来当面跟你谈，他把我骂得狗血喷头。可是我说：‘不，弗雷德，霍尔先生是一位绅士。可以信得过他，会像个绅士那样来做人。所以你就听任我来对付他吧。’还说：．还有德拉姆先生，他也是一位绅士，一向就是，以后也一直是。”’
“关于德拉姆先生，”这日寸，莫瑞斯觉得应该插嘴了，就说：“我确实一度喜欢过他，他也喜欢过我。但是他变了，现在他再也不喜欢我，我也不喜欢他，结束了。”
“什么结束了？”
“我们的友情。”
“霍尔先生，你听见我说的话了吗？”
“你说的话，我句句都听见了。”莫瑞斯若有所思地回答，并用完全一样的语气继续说下去：“斯卡德，你为什么认为既喜欢女人又喜欢男人是‘自然’的事呢？你在信中是这么写的。对我来说，这并不自然。我确实不得不认为‘自然’只意味着自己。”
那个人好像很感兴趣。“那么，你不能有自己的孩子吗？”他粗鲁地问。
“为这事，我去找过两个大夫。两个都无济于事。”
“那么，你不行喽？”
“嗯，我不行。”
“想要一个吗？”他问，好像怀有敌意似的。
“想要，大概也没用吧。”
“我要是愿意的话，明天就有能力结婚。”他大言不惭地说。他边说边瞧见一头带翼的亚述公牛，脸上的表情变了，露出天真的惊奇之色。“他真够大的，不是吗？”他说。“他们准有一部奇妙的大机器，才造得出这么个东西。”
“我想是这样的。”莫瑞斯说，公牛也给他留下了深刻的印象。“我也说不清楚。这儿好像还有一头。”
“可以说是一对儿喽。这些是用来做装饰品的吗？”
“这一头有五条腿。”
“我这一头也是，古怪的主意。”两个人站在各自的怪兽旁边，相互望着，面泛微笑。他再度板起面孔来了，说：“不行，霍尔先生。我看破了你在耍花招儿，可我不会再一次上你的当。我告诉你，与其等着弗雷德出面，你还不如跟我亲密地谈一谈呢。你找了个乐子，就得付出代价。”他这么威胁的时候，显得很英俊，就连他那凶狠的眼神也包括在内。莫瑞斯温柔地然而目光锐利地凝视着他。他发泄了一通，没有见到任何成效。那些话语犹如干了的薄泥一般飘落下去。他边咕哝什么“你好好考虑一下吧”，边在一条长凳上坐下来。过了一会儿，莫瑞斯挨着他落座。就这样过了约二十分钟，他们仿佛寻找什么东西似的从一间屋子马不停蹄地踱到另一间。他们拿眼睛盯着一座女神像或花瓶，犹如商量好的那样，凭一时冲动离开。他们采取一致行动是不可思议的，因为表面上二人彼此不和。阿列克重新隐隐约约地进行起卑劣的恫吓，然而不知道为什么，停顿时候的沉寂并没有被感染。既没让莫瑞斯害怕，也没惹他生气，他只是由于一个人竟然陷入这样的困境而感到惋惜。当他愿意回答的时候，他们的目光就相遇，他的微笑有时招致对手也含笑了。他越来越相信，实际上他们是在玩弄障眼法——差不多是恶作剧——隐藏着两个人都渴望着的真正的东西。他继续站稳脚跟，既真诚又和蔼可亲。倘若他不曾采取攻势，那是由于他尚未激动起来。必须有外界的冲击才能开始行动，机缘凑巧，问题迎刃而解。
他在卫城的模型上面俯下身去，前额稍微皱起，咕哝着：“我明白了，我明白了，我明白了。”附近的一位绅士听见了他的声音．吃了一惊，透过深度近视眼镜盯着看他，并且说：“千真万确！我u能把长相忘掉，可绝不会忘掉嗓音。千真万确！你是我们学校的一个毕业生。”那是杜希先生。
莫瑞斯没有回答。阿列克悄悄地侧身挨过来凑热闹。
“你肯定在亚伯拉罕校长的学校里待过。且慢！且慢！别告诉我你的名字，我想要自己回忆出来，我会记起来的。你不是桑德，也不是吉布斯。我知道了，我知道了，你叫温布尔拜。”
居然把姓名搞错了，杜希先生从来就是这个样子！倘若叫出了他的姓，莫瑞斯会正正经经搭腔的，但是眼下他倾向于扯谎。他对于没完没了地被误会已经厌烦了，这使他吃尽了苦头。他回答说：“不，我姓斯卡德。”头一个浮现到脑际的假姓脱口而出，它好像早已准备成熟，只等着他来使用。当这个姓从嘴里冒出来的时候，他明白了个中原因。但就在他恍然大悟之际，阿列克本人发话了。“不对，”他对杜希先生说，“我要认认真真地控告这个绅士。”
“是啊，极其认真。”莫瑞斯说罢，将一只手搭在阿列克的肩上，于是手指头就触着了他的后颈。他仅仅是心血来潮，忘乎所以，没有别的原因。
杜希先生浑然不觉。他不是个多疑的人，只当这是在粗野地闹着玩儿呢。这位深色头发、绅士派头的小伙子既然说自己不是温布尔拜，那就决不是喽。他说：“我非常抱歉，先生，我是轻易不会弄错的。”接着，他决定显示一下自己并不是个老傻瓜，就跟这两个默不作声的入大谈大英博物馆。说它不仅收集了古董，人们还可以领着那些无知的人在这儿转来转去一呃——可不是嘛--这是个使人振奋的地方——甚至连学童的脑子里都会冒出各式各样的问题——我们就为他们解答——毫无疑问，不能胜任。这时，传来了一个有耐心的嗓音：“本，我们等着你呢。”杜希先生就回到他妻子身边去了。同时，阿列克猛地走开，悄声说：“一点儿不错……现在我不打搅你啦。”
“你要到哪儿去认认真真地控告？”莫瑞斯说，他的声调忽然变得令人生畏。
“这就很难说了。”他回头看了看。他的脸涨得通红，跟那些英雄形成鲜明的对照。他们尽管完美无瑕，然而苍白无生命，从未被弄得不知所措过，也没有过不光彩的行为。“你别着急——现在我决不损害你了——你的胆量太大，我算是服了。”
“让胆量见鬼去吧。”莫瑞斯说，他勃然大怒。
“决不再闹下去了——”他打了自己一个嘴巴。“我不知道自己究竟是怎么回事，霍尔先生。我不想损害你，我从来都没这么想过。”
“你讹诈我。”
“没有，先生，没有……”
“你就是这么做的。”
“莫瑞斯，听着，我只是……”
“叫我莫瑞斯吗？”
“你叫过我阿列克……我和你是一样的。”
“我不觉得你跟我一样！”莫瑞斯停顿了一下，这是风暴之前的一瞬。接着，他爆发了：“向上帝发誓，倘若你向杜希先生告密，我就会把你揍趴下。我可能得花费几百英镑，然而我出得起，而且警察一向给我这样的人撑腰，对付你这种人。你哪儿知道这些。我们会以讹诈罪让你去坐牢，这之后——我就用手枪打穿自己的脑袋。”
“把你自己杀了？死吗？”
“直到那时候我才知道我原是爱你的。太迟啦……凡事都总足太迟。”一排排古老的雕像摇摇欲坠，他听见自己补充道：“我说这些没有什么用意。咱们还是出去吧，在这儿没法谈话。”他们离开这座暖气烧过了头的大厦，从那个据说什么样的书籍都无所不藏的图书馆前走过去，寻找黑暗和雨。来到有圆柱的门廊里时，莫瑞斯停下脚步，用不痛快的口气问：“我忘了，你哥哥呢？”
“他在爹那儿呢——我哥什么都不知道——我不过是吓吓你——”
“——为的是讹诈。”
“你要是能明白就好了……”他把莫瑞斯所写的短笺拽了出来。“你愿意的话，就拿去吧……我不会利用它的……从来就没有过这样的打算……我猜想，这下完了。”
毫无疑问，并没有完。他们既分不了手，又不知道即将发生什么事，就怒气冲冲地阔步向前走，从肮脏的一天那最后一抹微弱的闪光中穿行。夜幕，永远一成不变的夜幕终于降临。莫瑞斯恢复了自制力，能够审视激情为他弄到手的这块崭新的料了。在一个空寂无人的方形广场，他们倚着圈起几棵树的栅栏而立，开始讨论自己面临的危机。
然而莫瑞斯越冷静下来，阿列克的感情就越变得强烈。杜希先生仿佛在他们二人之间设置了激怒人的不平衡，于是，莫瑞斯刚一累得打不下去了，阿列克就开始进攻。他凶猛地说：“在船库里，雨下得比这还大呢，冷得也更厉害。你为什么没来？”
“糊涂。”
“你这话是什么意思？”
“你要知道，我的头脑一年到头都是糊涂的。我没有到你那儿去，也没写信，因为我想逃避你，尽管这是违心的。你是不可能理解的。你一个劲儿地把我往后拖，我吓得要死。当我在大夫那儿试图睡一会儿的时候，也感觉到了你，你对我的吸引力太强烈了。我知道有个邪恶的东西，可又说不出所以然来，因此一直把它假想成是你。”
“那是什么呢？”
“唔——境遇。”
“我听不懂这个。你为什么没有到船库来？”
“我害怕——你也是由于害怕才烦恼的。自从板球赛以来，你就听任自己怕我。正因为如此，咱们两个人至今仍互相厌恶。”
“我连一个便士也不会向你讨，我决不伤你的一个小指头。”他咆哮道，并且“咯嗒咯嗒”地晃悠着将他和树丛隔开来的栅栏。
“但是你依然努力地试图伤我的心。”
“你为什么说你爱我？”
“你为什么管我叫莫瑞斯？”
“哦，咱们别再说下去了。喏——”于是他伸出手去。莫瑞斯攥住了这只手。此刻，他们赢得了普通人所能获得的最大的胜利。肉体之爱意味着反应，从本质上看，就是恐怖。莫瑞斯这时才明白，他们二人在彭杰的那次原始的放纵会导致危难，是何等自然的事。他们相互间了解得太少——而又太多。恐惧由此而来，残酷由此而来。通过他本人的丑事，他了解了阿列克的寡廉鲜耻，从而感到高兴。这不是第一次了，他窥视到潜藏于个人那备受折磨的灵魂中的天赋。他挺身而出，顶撞对方的恫吓之词，并非作为一名英雄，而是作为一个亲密的伙伴。他在恐吓背后发现了稚气，在稚气背后又发现了某种其他的东西。
少顷，阿列克开口了，一阵阵的自责与谢罪使他心平气和了，他仿佛是个扔掉毒品的人。于是，他抖擞起精神。他再也不感到难为情了，开始对朋友打开天窗说亮话。他谈到自己的三亲六眷……他身上也深深地打上了阶级的烙印。谁都不知道他在伦敦——彭杰那些人只当他在自己的爹那儿，他爹则以为他在彭杰——这事可难办了。这会儿他得回家去了——去见他哥哥。他将和回阿根廷去的哥哥同行，他哥哥是做生意的，还有他嫂嫂。其间还夹杂着几句自吹自擂的话。凡是没受过多少教育的人，非这么做不可。他重复说，自己出身于体面的家庭。他不向任何人低头，决不低头，他是个堂堂正正的人，事实上不比任何一个绅士差。然而他正吹牛的时候，已经和莫瑞斯相互挽起了手臂。对这样的爱抚，他们是受之无愧的——这是一种奇妙的感觉。话语渐渐消失了，出其不意地又重新开始，是阿列克冒昧地提出来的。
“跟我一起过夜吧。”
莫瑞斯转过身来，两个人拥抱了。目前他们已经有意识地相互爱着了。
“跟我睡一夜，我知道一个地方。”
“我不行，我有个约会。”莫瑞斯说，他的心剧烈地跳着。有个为公司拉生意的正式晚餐会等待着他，那是无论如何不能缺席的。他几乎忘记有这么个晚餐会了。“现在我得离开你，去换衣服。听着，阿列克，要讲道理。换个晚上再见面吧——随便哪一天都行。”
“我再也不能到伦敦来了——我爹或者艾尔斯先生会说的。”
“他们说，又有什么关系？”
“你的晚餐会又有什么要紧？”
他们又不吭声了。接着，莫瑞斯用亲切然而沮丧的语气说：”好的，让晚餐会见鬼去吧。”他们双双冒着雨走去。
收听单词发音 |
1
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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10
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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11
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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12
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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13
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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15
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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16
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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17
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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18
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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19
bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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21
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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22
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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23
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24
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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25
flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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26
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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27
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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29
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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30
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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32
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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inadequately
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| ad.不够地；不够好地 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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35
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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blackmailed
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| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的过去式 ) | |
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blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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38
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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39
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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42
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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43
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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44
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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45
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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46
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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47
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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48
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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49
bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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50
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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51
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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52
embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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53
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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54
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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55
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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